


Opening Your Eyes

by dhania



Series: New Normal [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Family Secrets, Gen, Growing Up, Pre-Canon, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhania/pseuds/dhania
Summary: This is their story, from the beginning, as told through Deceit's eyes.
Series: New Normal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758253
Comments: 27
Kudos: 60





	1. Popping Into Existence

“I didn’t do it.”

The other sides turn to me, from where they’d been watching Thomas.

The words fall from my lips easily, as I look up at Ma, who’s wearing a scary expression. I shrink under her gaze, and give Thomas the words he has to say.

“I didn’t do it,” I repeat, tears in my eyes.

Ma’s expression softens, as Thomas mimics me, feeling my emotions.

The scary one shifts, and suddenly he’s standing beside me— the one I know as Fear. He looks as scary as I know he is, dressed from head to toe in black, sharp teeth opening at me in a smile.

“Good,” he whispers, and I shiver, as he touches my shoulder, making my heart trip faster. I try to step away from him, hunching my shoulders, but he grabs my arms, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Keep going. What if she doesn’t believe you? She’ll tell Thomas he’s a bad boy, she’ll never talk to him again, she’ll hate him, she won’t love him anymore, she’ll send Thomas— ”

“Stop!”

Someone shoves me and I fall, landing on the floor. I look at Heart, who stands over me protectively, glaring at Fear.

“Stop it,” Heart says, his voice small. “He’s crying.”

The distance from Fear helps, I can feel my heart rate slowing, even as I hiccup in tears. That guy’s  _ scary _ . More scary than Ma when she’s mad.

“She’ll never stop loving us.” Heart says, his voice dropping to a whisper, as he glances at me. I taste the air— there’s a small lie there. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying? “She won’t— ”

“Oh,  _ Thomas _ , dear, I wasn’t mad at you,” Ma says, and we all freeze, looking at her. She sits down in front of Thomas, cupping his face gently. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt. You don’t have to lie to me honey, I was just worried.”

We watch silently, as she brushes away an unshed tear from Thomas’s eyes, and stands up. She’s looking at the overturned bowl of steaming hot noodles, which drips down the side of the table, and at the shattered glass of water on the floor.

“We better get that cleaned up. You’re not hurt, are you?” She asks, looking over at Thomas. 

“...No.”

“Good,” she nods. “Now go upstairs, okay? We wouldn’t want you stepping on broken glass.”

Thomas searches Ma’s expression for any hidden anger, anything mean directed towards him. But Ma just smiles reassuringly, and grabs a towel to start cleaning the mess off.

“Okay,” Thomas says, slowly starting to smile, fear forgotten.

He skips over to the stairs, and everyone slowly deflates, relieved, the tension lost.

The scene around us ripples and changes, and we’re suddenly all standing in a blank space, everything grey around us, like a blank paper. I blink again, and objects and furniture start peppering the grey, until we’re standing in a cozy living room, identical to the one in Thomas’s house.

Fear is still blinking at Heart, but Fear’s less scary now, more subdued. He backs away, his eyes catching mine.

“S-sorry,” he mumbles. “I lost it again.”

“It’s okay!” Heart says, his voice cheerful and loud now, putting a reassuring hand on Fear’s shoulder. Fear’s expression relaxes, and he leans in to the touch. “We were all super worried too!”

“Realistically, speaking, it doesn’t make sense that she would ever stop loving Thomas over an accident,” the other one in the room pipes up— Logic. He’s fiddling with his fingers, not meeting our eyes when we look at him. “... I think. At least, I’m pretty sure.”

Heart skips over to him and grabs his hands, spinning him around with a laugh. “You betcha it doesn’t! You’re totally right, Logic!”

I lean forward, cradling my head, trying to block off their nose. I  _ just _ popped into existence, and I had to do my job as soon as I did. The lie had been obvious, but strong. It had taken up most of my power just to say. Though, with how obvious the lie had been, I’m pretty sure I have to get better at my job. For Thomas.

I flinch, when Fear moves closer to me. I look up at him, and he stops, looking guilty.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, holding out a hand. “I just, I get really scared sometimes, and Heart says I get weird. You need help?”

I stare at him, not tasting any lies in the air. I accept his hand, and he helps me up.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Right, we have a new guy!” Heart squeals, bouncing up to me. He engulfs me in a sudden hug, jumping up and down, and I force out a startled laugh, wishing he’d stop. He freezes, and steps back quickly, his smile dimmer. “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you!”

He clears his throat dramatically, and sticks out a hand. I see Logic roll his eyes behind him, as Heart smiles again, a little calmer. “I’m Heart. What’s your name?”

I hesitate, before taking his hand and shaking it. I have to make a good first impression, even if I’m tired, even if I just want to escape his expectant eyes and hide somewhere. I feel too exposed out here in the open, but I don’t know why. It’s not like I have anything to hide. I smile, a little unsure. “I’m Lying.”

“Lying?” Heart repeats, tilting his head. He frowns a little— I step back. No. If Heart doesn’t accept me, I’ll end up like the others. The ones that have no place, the ones who wander— But he’s smiling again, and pulls me into another hug. “It’s nice to meet you, Lying! Let’s be friends!”

“Yeah,” I mumble into his shoulder, meeting Fear’s eyes, who was watching us. He turns around and sinks into the floor wordlessly, leaving us behind. I taste the air, which leaves a swirl of untold truths in his wake. I taste it again, but the truths fade, and I can’t tell what they are anymore. 

“You should meet the others!” Heart says, pulling away, a smile as bright as the sun on his face. He turns around. “Oh— Oh. He left already… That was Fear, don’t let that bother you, though. He likes being alone.”

Heart grabs my hand, and leads me to Logic.

“And that’s— ” Heart starts.

“Logic,” the boy interrupts. He holds out a hand to me, and I take it, as he pumps it in a firm handshake. “I look forward to getting acquainted with you.”

“And the silly one over there is Creativity!” Heart chuckles, pointing to the other boy in the room, who’s running around, his hands spread out on either side of him as he makes a weird noise. I jump, as his arms suddenly flicker, becoming metallic, becoming red. Then Creativity’s a small red airplane, swooping around the room.

I laugh in wonder as he brushes over us, the other two ducking in time.

“That’s so cool,” I breathe.

“We really should tell him to keep that under control,” Logic says, glaring. “Heart, make him do that in his own room. Someone could get hurt.”

“Aw, don’t worry Loggie,” Heart says. “Creativity won’t hurt us.”

“He  _ could _ .” Logic mutters, but he doesn’t push it any further.

“Wanna see your room, Ly?” Heart asks, suddenly excited again, looking at me. “I bet it’s around here somewhere. You can feel it, can’t you?”

I nod hesitantly, trying to remember. I have Thomas’s memories, and some of each of the sides. Mostly Heart’s. Which makes sense, since we were all a part of him before we became ourselves.

I feel my room immediately, and I find it in a space not far from us. It’s down the hall, between where I know Logic’s and Creativity’s rooms are. I point towards it, and Heart lets out an excited squeak.

“Great, lets go see it!” He chirps, pulling Logic along behind us.

I lead the way. The hallways are a little confusing, they’re not like real hallways. Some parts of the wall and floor fall away to reveal a blank grey space, and everything  _ creaks _ . Well, not actual creaking. Maybe, this background hum, the sound of an ocean pressing up against a small, frail ship.

We reach my door, which is a plain dark wood, with a name set into the center: LYING. I smile a little, feeling more at ease than I ever have since materializing in Thomas’s head. Somehow, just being near my room calms me down.

Heart giggles. “Don’t just stare at the door, open it!”

I reach forward and twist the doorknob, stepping slowly inside. Heart pushes me in, and then he and Logic follow. I turn around, taking in my simple room. There’s a bed pressed against the corner, and a desk by the other. The most personalized thing in the room are the strings of lights that hang from the ceiling, like twinkling stars. I frown at them. They’re the same ones as in Heart’s room. They’re pretty, but I want something more  _ me _ , I realize.

As the thought strikes me, the lights disappear, leaving the ceiling blank.

“Your room’s so big!” Heart says, sitting on the bed. “Mine is filled with stuff now, so the space is nice. Oh! Oh! We could have a  _ sleepover!  _ We could all fit here!”

“Sure,” I say, shrugging, when he looks at me. I’m tired, and all I want to do is take a nap right now. But I don’t want to make Heart feel bad.

But Heart’s smile dims again anyway, and he shakes his head.

“Not if you don’t want to,” he says. “It looks like you’re tired. I can tell.”

My eyes widen, as I remember. Right. Heart knows how we’re feeling all the time.

I smile guiltily. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Heart says, chipper again. I’m guessing he goes through a lot of mood swings.  _ That’s _ not going to get annoying at all. “We can just do it tomorrow! We should let you get some time to sleep in today, anyway.”

“Can’t we have the sleepover in anyone’s room? We can just make our rooms bigger,” Logic points out.

“But I wanna have it in  _ Lying’s _ room!” Heart almost whines. “It looks so empty, we should be making him feel more welcome on his first day! Besides, he doesn’t mind. Do you, Lying?”

Heart looks at me with pleading eyes, and I shrug again. “I don’t mind.”

“Yay!” Heart says, clapping his hands. “Then, it’s set! We’re all doing a sleepover here tomorrow!”

I nod, yawning, as I lean against the wall for support.

“Uh oh. Looks like someone’s tired.” Heart says, standing up. “We’ll let you get some rest, Lying. Let me know if you need anything! You know how to call us, right?”

I scrunch my eyes shut, trying to remember how Heart does it. 

Then I remember, and I  _ think _ loudly, calling for Heart.

“That’s it!” Heart says. “You got it right!”

He hugs me again before he goes, promising we’d have more fun once I woke up. Logic nods his head at me as he follows Heart out, and the door closes behind them.

I let out a shaky breath, finally breathing in the quiet of my room.

I walk over to my bed, and sit down, smoothing over the blankets as I yawn again.

I don’t think I’m a peoples person. I’m pretty sure I like being alone. I wonder how that works, since I’d once been a part of Heart, and Heart hates being alone.

I shrug it off as my eyes fall shut, and I lay down on my bed.

I’m so tired.


	2. Capes, Crabs, Dads, and Tours

I wake up to an insistent knock on my door.

I groan, rolling off my bed.

“Who is it?” I snap angrily.

“It’s breakfast time, kiddo!”

I groan again, massaging my temples. Right. Heart likes to have early morning breakfasts with everyone.

It’s so much harder to wake up now than I remember it being for Heart.

“Go away,” I sigh.

“No can do, Ly!” Heart chirps, just as cheerily. “Everyone’s going to be in the kitchen! Fear and Logic made some pancakes!”

I don’t know how to feel about _Fear_ making my pancakes, but I remember that he and Logic are good cooks. My stomach rumbles.

“Fine.” I say. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’ll come back to check on you in ten minutes!”

“You don’t— ” I start to protest, but I can already hear him walking away. I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. I want to go back to bed. But _pancakes_.

I meet my eyes in the reflection of my mirror, the one that sits beside my bed. A small boy identical to Thomas blinks back, hair mussed from sleep, drool dried on the side of his mouth, a blue t-shirt hanging loosely off of him and wearing grey shorts.

I imagine a bathroom into my room, and open the door, peering inside. Truthfully, sides don’t need bathrooms. But showers are nice. Who would want to clean up with a flick of their wrists when they could enjoy a slow shower?

I strip and enjoy the cool water running down my head.

It’s calming, and slowly, I feel my headache melt away.

As promised, though, I hear a knock on my door again.

“It’s been ten minutes~” Heart sings.

I sigh, turning off the water and stepping out, drying my skin with a clap, and dressing myself with another one. I pause by the mirror.

Heart always wears these clothes. Logic wears a darker blue collared shirt, and Creativity just wears a white one. I scoff. Where’s the creativity in that? Everyone dresses alike, except for Fear, who drowns himself in black hoodies and sweatpants.

We need a break from blue, white, and black, I decide.

I go for pink, and frown. Too… no. Purple? Orange? Red? Green?

“We’re waiting~” Heart sings again.

I try yellow, and stop.

Huh.

Yellow.

But still, I can’t help feeling too exposed, too bright, and too open. It doesn’t feel _me_.

I add a black hoodie, but that’s Fear’s thing. I change it to a cape.

 _Much_ better.

I smile, posing in the mirror. I look cool. Like a knight.

I giggle. Creativity would be jealous.

“ _Ly_ ,” Heart whines, and I throw open my door, walking past him.

“‘Morning,” I say, and he catches up to me.

“Aw, you look so _cute!_ ” Heart coos, fluttering my short cape. “Is this why you took so long?”

I yawn, shaking my head. “Just had trouble getting out of bed.”

“Not a morning person?”

“Apparently not.”

“I guess we’re changing that,” he grins. “Breakfast is always early morning.”

“I know,” I grumble. “I’ll get used to it.”

“You will,” he giggles, ruffling my hair before I could protest.

I fix my hair with a sigh, as Heart starts rambling about a cute dog Thomas saw yesterday. I remember what Heart’s talking about. Thomas had passed by someone walking a dog on the way to his school bus yesterday. But that was before he came home, made a mess, and needed me to lie, which was obviously the more important part of that day.

We reach the kitchen, where Fear, Logic, and Creativity are already sitting at a round dining table. Fear’s saying something, but he stops, glancing at us as we come in. Creativity glares at me.

“You’re late!” He declares. “I should get your share of pancakes.”

“You’ll get sick eating that much sugar,” Logic says.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re not real.”

“We still feel pain, and it’s not good for your body.”

“Stop being such a— such a— ” Creativity pauses, thinking. “Nerd?”

“That was _such_ a terrible insult,” I say, as I sit beside him.

“Oh, yeah? You think you can do better?”

“Stop being such a _Sebastian_.” I say, smiling.

“What?” Creativity says, scowling. Then his expression clears. “The Sebastian from the Little Mermaid?” 

He seems to think it over for a bit, then giggles. “Logic, stop being such a _Sebastian_.”

Logic totally doesn’t get the point. “I’m not a red lobster pretending to be a crab.”

Creativity sucks in a breath. “Sebastian _is_ a crab.”

“He’s obviously a lobster.”

“ _Everyone_ knows he’s a crab!”

“His physical anatomy doesn’t match up with a crab. If you think about it, he’s clearly a lobster.”

I watch, bewildered, as the two start bickering over whether Sebastian is a crab or a lobster. I look at Fear, who watches them with a little smile, as he sets down plates in front of them. He catches me looking, and his smile falters for a bit, and he turns away.

Now that’s even more bewildering.

What did I ever do to Fear?

Heart comes soon, humming as he plops a generous serving of pancakes on everyone’s plates, and then he and Fear sit down, joining us.

I start eating, not being able to hold back anymore. The pancakes are as delicious as I’d imagined. Creativity notices my fork clinking, and looks over.

“I said _I_ get to eat your share.” He complains.

I shrug, and continue eating as if he hadn’t said anything.

He grumbles, but he starts eating too. Well, more like he attacks his pancakes with a fervor I faintly remember from someone’s memories. Logic follows much slower, carefully cutting into his, and Fear eats his with his gaze fixed on the tablecloth. Heart just beams at everyone, seeming content that we’re all together.

“These taste terrible.” I say, melting into another bite. This is my first real meal, so I could be biased— Then I realize what I’ve said, and scowl. “I meant that. I meant— terri— ”

“That’s not very nice,” Heart says, frowning. “I think they taste great.”

I shake my head, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. 

“Did we not follow the recipe properly?” Logic asks, looking at Fear, who just shrugs. “We can change something if you find the taste lacking.”

“ _No_ . These pancakes. Taste… good.” I say, slowly dragging the words out of me. Oh. Bitter. My whole mouth tastes so bitter. Of course it does. I just spoke the truth. This didn’t happen yesterday, even though I could taste _others’_ lies—

Oh. 

I remember. Sometimes, sides come with quirks. They match with their jobs, and they might set in later, show themselves in a side when they’re more comfortable in their own skins and the ideas of their own jobs.

“Are you okay?” Heart asks, leaning forward.

“You look like you’re about to puke,” Creativity grins.

“I’m _not_ fine. I mean, I… I’m fine.” I say. “I don’t think this is a quirk.”

Logic catches on first. “Are you talking about the side-effects of our identities?”

“Ooooh, like how everyone freaks out when Fear yells and Logic keeps breaking my things?” Creativity says.

“I do _not_ break your things.” Logic protests, flinching. “I just, think of so many questions, and they... ”

“Are you saying it’s hard to say what you mean?” Fear asks, a look in his eyes that I can’t place.

I shrug. “No.”

I grimace, and try again— “Yes. Tastes bitter when I say truth.”

“You don’t have to push yourself, Lying,” Heart says, leaning forward. “Just do what’s easiest.”

“No thanks,” I say, nodding, though it’s annoying to hear myself say the _opposite_ of what I mean. Just what does Thomas think lying is? That people who lie, lie _all_ the time? But some part of him must know better, because _I_ don’t think that.

Breakfast continues again, and I can’t help but notice Heart’s not smiling as much and Fear looks lost in his thoughts. I glance at the other two— Creativity’s as carefree as ever, kicking his legs, and Logic’s talking about some boring documentary Thomas’s dad watched some time ago.

When I get up to put away my dishes, Heart tells me to leave mine in the sink, because it’s Creativity’s turn to do the dishes. So I do, and wander over to the couch, turning on the TV when it looks like the others will take a while. I guess I’m a fast eater? And I didn’t go for seconds and thirds and fourths, like Creativity did. With that amazing appetite, you’d think he was eating for two people.

Logic joins me later, summoning a book out of nowhere and settling on the corner of the sofa with it. Heart and Fear finish last, and help Creativity carry the remaining dishes to the sink. I snort, watching them, because they’re _way_ more fun than the show playing on TV.

Creativity drops a few dishes as he scrubs them, and Fear steps in beside him, exasperatedly re-doing some of them. Heart grins, and when it looks like Fear’s got the disaster that is Creativity handling fragile objects covered, he backs out of the kitchen. Heart crosses the room to the sofa beside the one facing the TV.

He curls up on the soft cushions, yawning tiredly.

When he notices my gaze, though, he grins.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

I jolt, forgetting that I was watching him for a few moments. They’d all felt so natural, falling into a rhythm of easy smiles and words, that I’d forgotten that I’m here, too. I guess it’s a new feeling, to be _physically_ here, and not just a whisper of a thought at the back of Heart’s mind.

“Nothing,” I say, and feel sweetness fill my mouth. I frown, running my tongue over my teeth, trying to get rid of the taste. Maybe I should be more careful with my words. I don’t like the sudden tastes of things on my tongue— neither the bitter, nor the sweet. 

“Are you bored?” Heart asks, smiling. Then he seems to think of something, and suddenly sits upright. “We should take you on a tour!”

“I don’t know where anything is. I don’t have bits of everyone’s memories already,” I say.

“I _know_ , but you haven’t seen anything with your own eyes!”

“Can I come?” Creativity asks, eyes shining. “I wanna show him the Imagination!”

“And the library,” Logic adds, looking up from his book.

“And the Subconsciousness!” Creativity shouts.

“Don’t go anywhere dangerous!”

We pause, turning to Fear. He’s glaring at Creativity, and Creativity sticks his tongue out.

“We can handle it!” Creativity says. He draws a sword out of nowhere, and he splashes soapy water all over the kitchen as he raises it into the air. “I’ll protect everyone!”

“Don’t draw swords in the kitchen!” Fear yelps, the same time Heart says, “What did we say about swords in the common rooms?”

Creativity blinks at both of them, and lets his sword disappear, as he crosses his arms, glaring. “You two act like our dads. We don’t _need_ dads, we’re all the same age.”

“Actually, we need _some_ kind of authority figure.” Logic interrupts. “To provide clarity, at least during crisis situations. Or else Thomas will just freeze, because he wouldn’t know _who_ to listen to.”

“No we don’t!” Creativity says. “We can just do whatever we want to do!”

“But _some_ of us need rules, or else Thomas’s mind will descend into utter chaos and disorder.”

“And we all know _I’m_ the dad figure.” Heart says, though no one asked.

Creativity wrinkles his nose, the same time Logic shakes his head.

“What? I _am!_ You just said— ”

“I said you _act_ like our dad.” Creativity says.

“I mean no offense, Heart,” Logic says. “But you’re more like our older brother. Fear, on the other hand, acts in place of a dependable person of authority when it counts.”

Fear’s eyes widen. “Hey, leave me out of this. I’m not a dad.”

“I didn’t _say_ a ‘paternal figure,’” Logic says. “Just that all of us listen to you.”

“I listen to him ‘cause he’s scary.” Creativity says, nodding solemnly.

“So, _definitely_ not a dad,” Fear repeats firmly.

“That’s because _I’m_ the dad!” Heart says again, almost whining.

“You’re really not,” Fear sighs, eyes going back to the dishes.

Heart seems startled, though Logic and Creativity had pretty much just said the same thing.

“But— But— ” He stutters. I watch his mouth open and close, and find myself snickering.

“You shouldn’t teach me how to make Heart go speechless,” I say to Fear. “That doesn’t take a lot of skill.”

“Hey!” Heart says, whining again. “That’s not nice.”

But Fear doesn’t say anything, he just keeps scrubbing the dishes. I scowl now. Okay, what’s up? I never did anything to Fear! He was pretty nice yesterday!

“Returning to the subject at hand,” Logic says. “Are we doing the tour now? Thomas has some homework to do, so I’d like to know when to schedule it.”

“Why are you scheduling his homework?” Creativity says. “He’s in third grade.”

“Schedules are the basis for an orderly mind. If Thomas consistently makes schedules and sticks to them, he will— ”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Creativity says, turning to me. “So? Tour or no tour?”

I nod. “No. Lets not do the tour.”

“Yes!” Creativity says, pumping his fists. “Just wait until you see the Imagination!”

“You can come with us, Fear!” Heart says. “In case something happens in the Subconsciousness.”

Fear just wipes off his hands, but he doesn’t say no. Heart seems to take that as a sign that he’s coming, and grins at me.

I smile back, settling back into the sofa and staring blankly at the TV.

I need to have a talk with Fear.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> I'm going to start publishing before I chicken out and delete this story  
> (or rewrite it)


	3. A Tour

The tour starts out pretty normally.

The kitchen first, since it’s the closest, and they tell me how Heart and Creativity take turns filling the shelves with food, since they’re the best at creating. Creativity conjures a cookie to demonstrate, and insists I eat it. When I take a nibble, I make a face, pretty sure he’d made it weird on purpose.

“For some reason, food we don’t cook ourselves tastes kinda off,” Heart says, shaking his head. “We’re still not sure why.”

I put the cookie carefully on the kitchen counter, refusing to deal with it, before I turn to follow them. I back up, when I find Creativity in my personal space.

“I added some special stuff in that one,” Creativity whispers to me. I give him a disbelieving stare, but I know he’s telling the truth.

“Heart won’t kill you if I get sick,” I say, smirking.

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt me,” Creativity says, shrugging and walking ahead. 

Okay, what gives? First, Fear, and now Creativity? Is everyone ganging up on me?

Or. 

The more likely scenario— Fear actually _has_ a reason, and Creativity is just… being himself.

-

We go to the greenhouse next. It’s just a hallway down from the living room, through a white set of doors set with glass panes.

“I take care of Thomas’s emotions here,” Heart smiles, breathing in the greenery.

It looks like a typical greenhouse, there’s a pebble path and everything, curling around the ground, going up to different types of grasses, flowers, saplings, and trees.

“This is Hope,” Heart says, pointing at a group of tiny, blue flowers near the entrance. He keeps walking, pointing out each plant. “That’s Happiness, that one’s Easygoing— that one’s just a tree, I liked how it looked, that one’s Self-Care— ”

And so on.

Heart really grows a lot of different types of plants. He even tells us how to care for each one— Confidence needs to be watered regularly, Selflessness just needs a lot of sunlight, Courage needs a bit of everything. There’s a tall fountain in the middle of the greenhouse, and Heart runs his fingers through it, smiling happily.

“And this is Love.” Heart says. “This is the Love Thomas has for everything— himself, his friends, his family, strangers. And besides people, the love he has for his hobbies, his memories, his things. It’s the Love all his emotions grow on.”

I know this, I’ve seen pieces of this place in Heart’s memories. But still, seeing the fountain of Thomas’s love makes me happy. I haven’t done anything to contribute to it yet, but it’s part of all our jobs to protect it. 

-

And then we go to the Subconsciousness.

It’s farther into the mindscape, and takes a longer walk.

Suddenly, the hallway turns right, and opens up.

It’s like the long stretch of a beach. The sky is a familiar dull grey, stretching above our heads. The sand under our feet is a pitch black that absorbs our footsteps, as if it’s trying to suck us all in. The water lapping somewhere in the greyness ahead is the only sound I can hear, besides the other sides struggling beside me in the sand.

“I protect the mindscape from here.” Fear says, stopping at the edge of the lapping waves. _He_ doesn’t look like he has any trouble moving in the sand, I notice bitterly. “Negative emotions turn into monsters, and they mostly come from the Subconsciousness. I try to get rid of them before they enter the Mind Palace. But this isn’t the only place that borders the Subconsciousness. It’s just the biggest one, and if I have this area covered, we’re pretty much good. If anything manages to slip by, I can usually feel it.”

“Fear, our fearsome protector,” Heart says, grinning. I glance at him, and scowl. Heart doesn't have trouble standing in the sand, either. I guess it’s just the rest of us who can’t move around here.

Then we leave, picking our way slowly through the sand and back to the familiar hallway. Fear follows behind us, looking tense, and he keeps throwing glances over his shoulder at the waves. He catches me looking, and avoids my gaze.

Heart’s waiting in the hallway, waving for us cheerily.

“If we’re done,” Fear sighs. “You don’t need me anymore.”

“No, come on, we only have two more places to go!” Heart says, grabbing Fear’s arm. Fear jumps at the contact, throwing another look back at the beach. He pulls his arm away from Heart gently.

“I’m pretty sure you can survive the _Library_ and the _Imagination_ on your own.” Fear says, sarcasm dripping from his words. Then he pauses, looking at Creativity. “The Imagination is safe, right?”

Creativity salutes. “Only one way to find out, Fearsome Protector.”

Fear scowls. “ _Creativity—_ ”

“Onwards to the library!” Creativity says, pulling Heart along. Heart throws a grin at Fear on the way, and Fear sighs.

-

“And this is where we store memories!” Logic says excitedly, when we near the library doors, which are tall and made of a heavy, black wood. “Every one of Thomas’s memories are here! Everything he’s experienced, from his birth to now, that he remembers.”

They open the doors, and we step into a huge room with a low ceiling, brightly lit by a natural light.

The walls curve inwards, filled with rows and rows of drawers and shelves that slowly move systematically around us, shelves slowly sliding down from one level to another. No doubt everything’s sorted by Logic, who walks through, directing us to the middle of the floor. We suddenly start to descend slowly through the shelves, and he points out memories here and there. He stops one drawer, which was slowly sliding along its shelf, and pulls out a smooth cube. He makes me take it, and though I’m wary from Creativity’s last prank, Heart and Fear seem okay with it. So I take it.

Suddenly, I’m not standing in the library anymore, I’m washing dishes. I have pink gloves on, and I’m humming a tuneless song as I scrub a dish and hand it to Ma, who smiles at me as she dries it. I can smell the water and soap, feel the edge of the kitchen counter pressed against my stomach.

Then, just as suddenly, I’m in the library again, and Logic’s taking back the cube, holding it carefully, as if it could break.

“Thomas has _terrible_ long-term memory.” Logic says. “Even his short-term memory is at times unreliable. It’s partially my fault, since I’m still learning how to properly maintain this library. I’ve been trying to come up with a system to organize his thoughts more efficiently.”

I nod, looking around at the rows and rows of drawers stretching above our heads with a new appreciation.

We go deeper down, and I realize the lighting gets worse and worse. There’s just a wall of darkness around us past a certain point, at which we stop.

“That’s all of Thomas’s memory.” Logic explains, gesturing to the bookshelves above us. “The library expands every time he gains new memories, but this is as much as he has at this point. Past this area, it’s the Subconsciousness— or at least, a part of it. Memories he forgets fall here, and this is where I toss other memories I don’t think are necessary to Thomas.”

“That’s why he keeps forgetting important things.” Creativity grumbles.

“Thomas doesn’t need to memorize every TV show he’s ever watched. It’s a waste of space.”

“He does! What about my future acting career! It depends on having scripts around!”

“Even if Thomas were to ever pursue a career in acting, I’m sure eighty-nine hours of Spongebob aren’t going to help further his dreams.”

“Spongebob is an amazing show!”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, I’m just saying it’s unnecessary to remember.”

“That’s like saying the same thing!”

“I compromised and saved every re-watch of every Disney movie, ever. I’m not— ”

“ _Okay_ , time to go,” Fear mutters, starting to walk away. He touches the shelf in front of him, and the books part, revealing the door we’d come through at the top. He pushes it open and slips through.

“Come on, Creativity, lets go look at the Imagination,” Heart says, and that instantly puts Creativity in a better mood.

“Yes! Finally!” He crows, running after Fear.

“Do you always get along?” I ask Logic, who’s glaring at Creativity’s back.

“Not always.” Logic says, shaking his head. “Creativity seems to assume that I am, in his words, ‘his arch-nemesis.’ It’s very counter-productive. Creativity and Logic could work well together.”

“Creativity is just a little… not used to the idea of teamwork.” Heart says, carefully. “I’m pretty sure he’ll come around, Loggie.”

“It’s fine,” Logic sighs, following the others out. “At the moment, being in the same room as him is very tiring. I prefer books to people anyway.”

Heart _definitely_ looks like he has something to say to that, but he just grabs my hand with a smile and tugs me along.

Something in my stomach throbs suddenly, and I pause, wondering what that was.

“Are you okay, Ly?” Heart asks.

“I’m fine,” I say, and l taste the lie on my tongue. Heart believes it though, and pulls me along again.

-

Next, as promised, we go to the Imagination.

Which means Fear and Creativity are waiting outside of Creativity’s room impatiently.

Correction: Fear looks like he couldn’t care less, Creativity looks impatient. But the guy still waits until we get there, before he grins.

“Gentlemen and gentlefolk,” he says, in a loud, boisterous voice. He’s suddenly wearing a red cape— that looks suspiciously like a rip-off of mine— and he raises one edge with a hand as he does a dramatic curtesy. “I present to you… the Imagination.”

His door suddenly swings inwards, blasting us with warm sunlight and a slight breeze.

I want to gag at the dramatics, but the Imagination really _is_ amazing. Heart ushers us inside, and the view opens up to an endless blue sky and rolling green hills. As the door creaks shut behind us and disappears, my attention focuses on the view below. 

We’re standing at a high point, where we can see a world unfold around us. There are towns tucked in there, rivers, valleys, mountains, lakes, seas, and in the distant middle of it all, I see the towers of a huge castle stretch impossibly high into the sky. At the very edges, an ocean spreads out to a distant horizon.

“I welcome you to my lands as your King,” Creativity says, all flair and pizzaz. I roll my eyes, but stop when I look at him. His shirt and cape have been replaced with a circlet of gold on his head, and he’s wearing a flashy, poofy, red-and green costume that looks like it’s out of Alice in Wonderland.

“That’s a court jester’s outfit.” Logic points out, scowling. “But you’re wearing a crown and calling yourself king?”

“Logic has no place in my lands,” Creativity scoffs, swinging onto a chestnut horse that rises up out of nowhere. “Come forth, my subjects! I shall lend you each a horse for your convenience!”

“Can you lend us a car, instead?” Fear asks, backing away from the black horse that materializes at his side.

Creativity laughs, his voice rolling around us, carried farther by the winds. “Cars? On these hills? How about hover-ships instead?”

And suddenly, this weird, futuristic, machine-thing shows up at our feet, hovering off the ground. I guess he doesn’t care that he’s mixing genres.

Fear tests his weight on one side, and it tilts a little.

“Alright, this looks unsafe.” Fear says, scowling. “We’re going back.”

“No!” Creativity says, his voice childish again. “Please! I promise it’s safe!”

“Just like how you promised you wouldn’t have anything dangerous in the Imagination?” Fear asks, raising a brow.

“These aren’t dangerous!” He insists. “I almost never get hurt here! And even when I do, the Dragon-Witch always heals me!”

“A dragon _and_ a witch?” Fear asks, his breath hitching. “You have _dragons and witches_ wandering around here?”

“No, just _one_ Dragon-Witch.” Creativity corrects. “The dragons and witches are asleep unless I want them to attack towns.”

“Why would you want them to attack towns?” Heart asks, confused.

“So I can save the townspeople!” Creativity says, in a _duh_ voice.

“So you order the attacks _and_ do the saving?” Logic asks.

Creativity’s starting to look fed up. “Yeah! Of course I do! How else can I go on adventures! It’s not like things happen here without my permission!”

“So you’re making all this happen, by yourself?” I ask, watching the clouds scurrying across the sky below us. “Everything?”

He hesitates. “I told the Imagination what to put in here at some point. And then, it just, kept going? So, are we going to meet the Dragon-Witch or not?”

“Why would we _want_ to— ” Fear cuts off, hunching down. Heart is by his side in seconds, rubbing circular motions into his back.

“It’s okay. It’s just an illusion. It’s okay,” Heart mutters, looking worried.

“Is… Fear alright?” I ask Logic, who’s also watching the exchange. 

“Fear hates heights, wide open spaces, and the thought of going into any situation unprepared.” Logic says, listing them off on his fingers.

So, basically, this is Fear’s worst nightmare.

“We’re not that high up,” I say, looking at the dizzying drop just past where we’re standing. I don’t know if it helps, but— 

I scream, as the ground beneath us disappears.

Suddenly, I’m standing on a paved road, looking around at the others, who look just as confused. We’re in a quiet street corner, some unfamiliar people bustling by, a carriage rounding the next building, a street vendor calling out to sell his goods. No one seems to notice us, though. 

“What did you do?” Creativity demands. I turn to see him walking up to Logic, fists clenched at his sides. “You promised you wouldn’t change anything in the Imagination without my permission!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Logic says, backing away. “This isn’t the kind of thing I _can_ do, anyway. This was probably Lying. Didn’t you hear what he said?”

Creativity whirls on me. “Is that true?”

I pause. _Is_ that true? “I’m a King, too.”

I gasp in delight, as my clothes transform. I’m wearing a _proper_ king’s clothes, all black velvets and a heavy crown.

“Liar!” Creativity snaps. “You’re no King! You’re just a liar!”

I smirk at him, concentrating. A silver cane materializes in my hands, and I gather my hands on top of it, striking what I hoped was a cool pose.

“Then I’m a pretty great liar.” I say, smiling. “I’m the King of Liars!”

“Stop it!” Creativity growls, only getting more agitated. “The Imagination should only listen to _me!_ ”

As if in agreement, there’s the distant rumble of thunder.

I wonder what else I can change...?

“It’s raining,” I say, tilting my head. “But we’re dry.”

Another clap of thunder rips through the sky, but there’s no rain. I frown. “It’s rain— ”

“Shut up!” Creativity hisses, slapping a hand on my mouth. “You can’t do that! You can’t keep forcing the Imagination to change! Even _I_ don’t do that!”

I shove his hand away, glaring right back. “You didn’t say you could control everything here.”

“ _Yeah!”_ He yells, probably forgetting that he’s supposed to take the opposite of whatever I’ve said. “Because I have to ask the Imagination to do things _for_ me! You have to respect it, or else bad things happen.”

“What? You can’t control the Imagination, it’s not like everything else in the mindscape, besides the Subconsciousness.”

“ _What are you even saying?_ ” Creativity snaps, his voice loud again, piercing my ears. I back away from him, scowling.

“He is correct.” Logic interrupts, stepping between us. “The Imagination answers to no one. It’s why I don’t change things here. The last time I tried to force logic into it…” He flinches. “I was forcibly removed from this space by the Imagination itself. It dropped me deep into the mind, and it took Heart three days to find me.”

I feel my eyes grow wide. Oh. I take a few more steps back, holding my hands up in surrender. “No. I promise, I’ll keep messing with the Imagination.”

Creativity looks about ready to snap again, and I force the bitter words out of my mouth.

“I _meant_ , I promise, I’ll never mess with the Imagination again.”

“Pretty words from a _liar_ ,” Creativity says, still all dramatics and righteous anger.

I roll my eyes, and look around again. Fear looks like he’s calmed down, but he still looks defeated, his shoulders hunched forward and his hoodie up. Heart stands beside him, his hands hovering uselessly, as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Are you okay now?” I ask, and Fear hisses. I wait for him to say something, but… He’s actually just hissing, not really saying anything I can understand. I nod. “Okay.”

“We should probably leave now,” Heart says, meeting my eyes.

“But the Dragon-Witch— ” Creativity starts.

“Not today, Creativity.” Heart says firmly. “We should leave _now_.”

Creativity just looks at him, as if silently asking him, ‘ _Are you serious?,_ ’ but Heart just stares evenly back. Creativity sighs. “Fine. The entrance to the Imagination is up this cliff. We could use the hover-ships.”

“ _No_ hover-ships.” Fear snaps. “Or animals.”

“Then we’re walking?” Creativity asks, as if the thought weirded him out. “But a hover-ship would take us _two seconds_ to reach the top!”

“No. Hover. Shipsss.” Fear says, hissing a little.

“This is the _worst_ tour of the Imagination I’ve ever done.” Creativity pouts, crossing his arms.

“Can’t you just, summon up the exit? Like Fear did in the library?” I ask.

Creativity glares at me.

“Can’t you ‘ _ask the Imagination_ ’ to summon up the exit?” I ask again, rephrasing.

“It doesn’t work that way. It’s _never_ had to. I have _hover-ships._ ”

“So we’re not walking,” I say, nodding. “Unless you send us back first and lead Fear up there later?”

I haven’t even finished my sentence before Heart’s giving me his disappointed look.

“...or not.” I sigh.

So many _rules_.

“Think of it like our sleepover,” Heart suggested. “We’ll all be here together!”

“How long does it take to reach the top?” Logic asks, squinting up at the wall of a cliff at our backs.

“I don’t know.” Creativity snaps. “I’ve never tried _walking_ the distance.”

“But Thomas has homework!” Logic says incredulously. “We can’t skip out on _homework!_ ”

“Homework’s not a problem,” Creativity says. “Time passes by differently here. A couple days is just a couple of hours outside.”

“So, whenever you disappear into the Imagination for a week,” Heart says, narrowing his eyes.

Creativity shrugs. “I go on adventure after adventure for _months!_ ”

“Creativity!” Heart admonishes. “No wonder Thomas daydreams so much. You pretty much _live_ in the Imagination.”

“That’s my job,” Creativity nods. “Thomas’s hopes, dreams, and wishes!”

“Staying in the Imagination is _not_ your job,” Heart says, shaking his head. “We need to talk about this later.”

“Okay, _Dad_ ,” Creativity pouts again.

“Now which way is up, young man?” Heart says, smiling jokingly.

-

We soon find out which ones of us are suited for physical activity, and which ones are not.

Namely, me.

I don’t know what Heart and Logic do for physical exercise, but they’re still going strong a few hours later, as we trek through the illusive dirt paths leading from the town to the top of the cliff. The sun slowly sets behind us, and the only good thing about _that_ is the view. But the dying light also means we’re going to be walking through the dark soon.

I gasp for breath, finally collapsing on the steep path, leaning back against the dirt. “I can’t.”

I understand Fear and Creativity, whose jobs need them to be strong. But how are Heart and Logic able to put up with this? It’s embarrassing being the only one tired and out of breath.

I feel cool fingers grab my own, and I squint.

“Creativity says it’s not far,” Logic says, supporting my weight. “We’ll get there faster with my help.”

I blink at him, too tired to think. _Logic?_ Since when was Logic supposed to be nice?

I shrug it off and let him help me up, as we move step by exhausting step forward. I’m sure I’m sweating profusely, and even Logic’s breathing harder.

I don’t know what the Imagination’s doing to our bodies, because we’re actually tiring, physically fit or not. This would never happen in the mindscape, unless we were weakening. At the very least, our bodies would slowly start to recover from physical strain as soon as we felt it.

The ground evens out eventually, and Logic drags me into the dark mouth of what looks like a cave.

It looks huge, dark, and ominous, but the others are already there.

“Camping!” Heart’s saying, regaining his cheeriness. “This is just like camping!”

“And I volunteer as tribute! To collect the firewood!” Creativity says, posing valiantly.

I groan. “Someone just flick their fingers and _make_ a fire.”

“Ah ah ah,” Creativity tuts, shaking his head. “The trials of the Imagination are real. We can’t use most of our powers here.”

“And you voluntarily spend _months_ at a time in a place like this?” I ask, disbelievingly.

Creativity shrugs. “Such is the strength of your King.”

“What about food?” Logic asks, his voice right in my ear. I flinch, realizing he’s still holding up the majority of my weight, and shift away from him, sliding down to the cool cave floor gratefully.

“Oh _that_ , I summon.” The ‘King’ says dismissively. “I hunt sometimes, but I don’t think you guys wanna see blood… Unless you do?”

“You hunt animals in the Imagination?” Heart asks, sounding horrified.

“Yeah, but they’re not _real_ ,” Creativity says.

“Kiddo, if there’s hunting and blood involved, that’s way _too_ real.”

Logic lets out a breath, and sits down, too.

“So, just for clarification, no blood?”

“ _No!_ ” Heart, Fear, Logic, and I snap at once.

Creativity nods, sighing. “I’ll get the firewood.” But he perks up again. “While I’m gone, someone make the ingredients for s’mores.”

“ _S’mores!_ ” Heart squeals, clapping his hands as Creativity leaves. “We should do scary campfire stories, too!”

“ _No_ ,” Fear says.

“No?”

“No scary stories.”

“ _Awww_ , Fear’s afraid of scary stories.”

“No, I’m not! I just can’t stop freaking out! Who told Creativity to make this place so realistic? What if there are bears? Or poisonous insects? Or magical creatures who attack in the dark?”

“There probably aren’t,” I say.

“ _Not_ helping.” Fear snaps. 

I blink, realizing he’d understood me. I’ve just gotten used to the others not getting what I’ve been saying all day. That’s… kind of, touching, though I still want to talk to Fear at some point, because I know he still doesn’t feel good about me being here for some reason.

“Didn’t Creativity say nothing happens unless he wants it to happen? At least, all the attacking parts?” Heart says.

“Who knows _what_ he meant.” Fear mutters. “That kid is insane.”

“ _Fear!_ ” Heart says.

“Sorry,” Fear sighs, and now it’s muffled, a bit. “You’re all stuck doing this because I’m too scared of the hover-ships.”

I taste the air, and it rings true. Ugh, Fear opening up. What _is_ the Imagination doing to us all?

“That’s not true!” Heart says.

“It kinda isn’t.” I mutter.

“Ly!” Heart snaps, this time. “Not helping.”

I shrug, smiling, though I’m pretty sure he can’t tell in the dark.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else right now.” Heart says. “We’ve never come this far inside the Imagination together, and we’re learning more about Creativity than we ever do at home! And we’re getting to know each other!”

There’s a silence after that, broken by the sound of Creativity stomping around somewhere, humming the same tuneless song I’d heard Thomas hum while scrubbing the dishes. So _Creativity’s_ the reason for Thomas’s terrible vocal skills. Who would’ve thought.

“I would prefer to be in my room, actually.” Logic says. “There are a number of better ways to get acquainted without getting stuck in this uncomfortable situation.”

“But do they include campfires and s’mores?” Heart asks.

“...No.”

“See? Try to look at the positives, Loggie!”

It’s quiet again, besides Heart humming along to Creativity’s tune.

I sigh, and lean back against the cave wall, closing my eyes.

Finally.

Some quiet.

I listen to the insects chirping outside, and the occasional bird call. Trees rustle in the soft winds, carrying the scent of rain. The forest is alive around us, filled with evidence of wildlife and movement.

How _did_ Creativity manage to think up all of this? The amount of detail and thought is incredible. It’s like he painstakingly went through memories of Thomas going on actual nature treks for reference. I open my eyes to glance at Logic, who’s curled up beside me. Maybe he did. Logic would know.

Creativity stomps in later, and drops the sticks in his arms in the middle of the rough circle we’re already sitting in. They light with fire, and I almost jump.

“You said we could summon fire here,” I say, accusingly.

“Not without firewood!” Creativity says.

“Lets make s’mores!” Heart cuts in, before I can argue.

And _I’m_ a liar? Everything Creativity’s done has been inconsistent from the beginning! But I can’t even taste any lies off of him!

But we gather around the fire anyway, and Heart passes around the ingredients for s’mores.

I feel my bad mood evaporate with the smoke. This is the most delicious food I’ve ever had. It might not mean much because Fear and Logic’s pancakes are the _only_ other food I’ve ever had, but the point still stands.

“Since we’re not doing campfire stories,” Heart says, the fire casting dancing shadows over his face. “How about we sing?”

“Creativity’s a wonderful singer,” I say, before I can think about it.

“Thank… you?” Creativity says, freezing. I smirk, and his brows scrunch together, and he seems to get it. “Hey! No I’m not! Have you ever heard Logic sing?”

“I _don’t_ sing.” Logic says.

“Exactly!”

“What about you, Heart?” I ask.

Heart grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m glad you asked.”

And then he starts singing “You’re Welcome” from Moana, and it’s the worst thing ever.

“Please do that again.” I say, when he finishes.

Heart laughs. “Thomas isn’t a good singer, so we’re probably all going to sound bad. The important thing is, he still keeps trying. Maybe one day, we’ll be good!”

I make a face at that.

“I can rap.” Logic says, unexpectedly.

We all stare at him.

“ _Really?_ ” Heart squeals, patting Logic’s shoulder. “Loggie, I never knew! Rap for us!”

I’m pretty sure Logic’s face doesn’t just look flushed because of the lighting, when he shakes his head.

“You can’t just tell us you can rap and then not show us!” Heart says.

When Logic’s still quiet, Heart eases off.

“Okay, then, no pressure kiddo. Anyone else wanna go?”

For some reason, Heart and Creativity look at me.

“I’ve sung a lot in my life.” I tell them.

“Scared?” Creativity smirks.

“Then this can be your first time!” Heart says.

“What about Fear?” I say, pointing at him. Fear glares at me, but Heart just gasps.

“You should both sing together!” Heart says.

“What? Why?” I ask, confused.

“Go on. Try singing something you both know,” Heart says.

“I’m _not_ singing.” Fear snaps.

Him protesting makes me want to sing, though.

I smile. “Come on, Fear, the _least_ you can do after being the reason for all of this, is to sing with me.”

“Ly, be nice.” Heart says warningly.

I ignore him, looking at Fear, waiting for him to reply.

“ _Fine_ ,” Fear says, finally. “What are we singing?”

I grin, not expecting for that to have worked.

“I know lots of songs,” I shrug. “Someone suggest something.”

“Mmm, something that both of you would like?” Heart asks, squinting at the cave walls.

“Reflection?” Creativity suggests, snickering.

“From Mulan? Oh, that could be nice!” Heart agrees.

Fear and I look at each other. I _kind of_ remember the lyrics, from the countless times Thomas has watched the movie.

Fear starts singing, his voice low and flat, so I join in. I’m pretty sure we sound bad. My suspicions become fact when Creativity joins us. We sound _terrible_ now, which only gets worse when Heart and Logic start singing too, at the last few lines.

When we finish, we all look at each other, until Creativity falls on his back, screeching with laughter. Heart joins him.

“That was the _worst_.” Creativity gasps.

“That hurt my ears,” Logic agrees, nodding. “I fear for Thomas’s friends if they ever ask him to sing.”

Creativity finds that even funnier somehow, and I start to become concerned that he could _literally_ die of laughter. But Heart recovers, and strokes Creativity’s back until he calms down. Both of them lay there, their breathing evening out.

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” I say, tasting the lie in my mouth.

“We’ll get better,” Heart says, shaking his head. “What should we sing next?”

We sing a few more rounds after that, and surprisingly, I _do_ like Logic’s voice. He sounds slightly less terrible than the rest of us, who are so off-tune you can barely recognize the song even though we’re singing all the right lyrics. But it feels like he’s consciously refusing to do anything but recite the lyrics, like a poem.

“We’re all going to sleep,” Fear announces, finally.

“What?” Heart gasps. “But it’s a _sleepover!_ ”

“If everyone’s tired when we get back tomorrow, who’s going to help Thomas the rest of the day?” Fear points out. 

“Aw, but we _just_ started!” Creativity protests.

“ _Sleep_.” Fear repeats, unrelenting.

“That makes sense,” Logic agrees. “If time works the way Creativity explained it does, it would only be late evening by the time we get back. Thomas has a lot of schoolwork due tomorrow.”

I don’t mind sleeping early. I just don’t want to curl up on the cold, rocky ground.

Creativity solves that problem by summoning sleeping bags.

“How come you get to summon things?” I’m protesting again.

“Because I know what’s okay with the Imagination and what isn’t.” He says.

 _You just don’t want someone else to make anything_ , I want to say, but I swallow the words down. If Creativity’s wants to be so possessive over the Imagination, it’s not my problem.

I crawl into my sleeping bag— we all arrange them around the fire in the middle— and immediately fall asleep.


	4. Leisure Days

We finally see the door on the next morning’s trek.

“No!” I can’t help shouting, from my spot on Fear’s back. I’d long since run out of energy to walk, and the others played rock-paper-sissors to see who’d carry me (because both Fear and Creativity didn’t want to, and Heart thought they were being rude— guess who lost). “Finally! My bed! Hallways!”

“Shut up,” Fear snaps, under his breath. “You’re in my ear.”

“Freedom! Carpets! Ceilings!” 

“I said shut up!”

“Fear!” Heart says warningly.

We finally step through the door, and despite his complaining, Fear doesn’t drop me as soon as we’re through, like I thought he would. He walks up to my door, which is just a little down the hall from Creativity’s, and stops outside it.

“Open up,” he grunts, and I reach forward and turn the knob. Fear drops me on my bed, and flinches, as he straightens up. “Why are you so heavy?”

He turns to leave— I catch the end of his hoodie, and he stops, turning around to give me a look.

I can hear the others from my door— it’s still open, Heart and Creativity are talking about something, until Heart shows up, smiling, Creativity trailing just behind him.

“How are you feeling, Ly?” Heart asks, and I let go of Fear’s hoodie.

“Not tired,” I say, stretching my aching legs out in front of me. Ugh, there it is again— my mouth’s sweet. It’d be easier to just not say anything.

“You should rest for a while.” Heart says. “You’ll start to heal soon.”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I won’t just take a nap, or something.”

“You do that,” Heart nods, glancing at Fear. I notice they’re doing that thing, where they talk without taking. Creativity just looks mad, glaring off into some distance, through the ceiling. Heart smiles at me again. “I’ll come and get you for dinner. Get well, okay?”

I open my mouth, my gaze flicking to Fear. Well, there goes my chance of getting him alone.

“Okay,” I say, slumping back into bed.

When Heart turns to leave, Fear and Creativity follow him without a word.

I’ve seen enough interactions through Heart’s mind to know that Creativity’s in trouble. He’ll probably get lectured into the night. Or, who knows, since it’s Creativity, it might not even phase him that both the oldest and most powerful of Thomas’s sides have a problem with something he’s doing. He really  _ is _ insane, most of the time.

I settle into my blankets, but I’m not really sleepy, since we’d  _ just _ slept in the Imagination. I can guess, from the fact that Thomas is rushing to do his homework right now, that Logic’s gotten right to work. So that just leaves me to do whatever I want.

I sigh, staring at my ceiling.

_ Whatever I want _ .

The Tour had made me realize one thing painfully clearly— the accepted Sides are crucial to Thomas’s well-being. 

So what am I?

I’m not even sure why Thomas  _ needs _ a whole Side dedicated to lying, when it looks like the others have everything covered. There isn’t really any glaring need for something I can do— which, besides lying all the time, I don’t know what I  _ can _ do. Everyone has their own cool abilities. But what abilities does lying come with?

The thoughts that had been plaguing the back of my mind drag themselves to the forefront now, and I try to shake them off.

Thomas needs me.

If he didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have been accepted by Heart.

I just need to find my own place.

I force myself to think about the present, raking my eyes through my blank room.

Should I redecorate?

But I don’t feel in the mood.

I get up eventually, dragging my feet along, which feel like lead after hours of trekking. They’ll heal soon, if I give them time. The effects of the mindscape are setting in already, but they’re not acting quickly enough, in my opinion.

I open my door and poke my head out— no one’s outside.

Great.

Just me, boredom (including a huge splurge of thoughts to run from), and a whole mindscape. I wonder what could go wrong.

.

I end up wandering.

The farther I get from familiar territory, the more distorted the hallways become, until the bland plaster walls just give completely away to the grey that I’d only seen through small gaps. The carpet beneath my feet becomes something smooth, something soft, something pulsing with life. My ears roar with the sound of the ocean hum I could only hear faintly within the Mind Palace’s familiar halls.

I yawn, absently dragging my fingers over the wall to my left. Something about this space is so comforting, so familiar. I wonder how long I’ve been walking, to get this far.

I stop at one point, and sit down, leaning back against the wall.

It’s just, so comfortable.

I could fall asleep here, if I tried.

I know this is dangerous, I know the parts of Thomas that Heart hasn’t accepted yet run free here. They don’t have rooms, since the Heart doesn’t want them to stay, and they wander, becoming weaker and weaker, more and more deranged, as they lose all sense of self. It’s a terrible fate, that Heart is painfully aware of, but something he finds is his job to sentence.

I yawn again.

I really shouldn’t be here.

I really…

.

I wake up, with a start.

I scramble to my feet—  _ how long have I been here? _

I check Thomas— 

Oh. Okay. Only half an hour.

I slow my breaths, leaning against the wall— then flinch away, when I feel the familiar, familiar hum. No. Nope. I’m going to fall asleep again if I get more comfortable. I should keep walking.

Or, better yet, just sink out and go back to my room, but only when I reach familiar halls.

I know from someone’s memories— I’m not sure whose— that sinking out in the grey hallways might get me lost, and might not always lead back to where I’d intended to go.

So I turn around, and keep walking. I focus on picturing the white plaster halls, the doors of Creativity, me, and Logic, the familiar kitchen and living room. The mind around me seems to hum in response. I ignore it, try to ignore my urge to just slow down, give in to the pleasant humming, and go back to sleep. I need to keep going. I need to keep staying awake.

Finally—  _ finally _ , I see familiar plaster ahead of me.

Soon, I’m back in the official parts of the Mind Palace, and I lean against— thankfully solid— walls, trying to catch my breath from my relentless walk. Note to self:  _ never _ do that again. How do the wandering sides do it? Keep their sanities when even  _ me _ , an accepted Side, had just wanted to give in, had just wanted to disappear, into the comforting hum and flow of Thomas’s mind? They must be beyond desperate to survive.

And the worst thing is— the worst thing is, I know, and I know that Heart knows, that they keep coming back. The ignored sides that Thomas himself cannot get rid of. They wander aimlessly, give in to the flow of the mind, disappear, and then are born again. It’s a continuous cycle.

Once I‘ve caught my breath, and my mind feels  _ mine _ again, I straighten up— and pause, seeing Creativity standing there, with a strange expression on his face.

“Hey, you do whatever you wanna do,” he grins, with a shrug, and opens his door and disappears into it.

I stare after him, wondering what he thought he saw to say that.

I walk back to my room, and melt into the sense of safety that surrounds me again. But unlike the pull of the Grey Hallways, my room doesn't try to rob me of my personality, my existence. It’s just, healing. I sink into my bed, more tired than ever.

I should’ve just gone to sleep instead of wandering Thomas’s mind.  _ What had I been thinking? _ Well, it’s not too late now, and I gratefully sink into sleep.

.

I wake up with a terrible stomachache.

I ignore it, sitting up, trying to blink the sleep away.

“Are you awake, Lying?” I hear Logic’s clipped voice sound again, past my door. “It’s time for dinner. Heart told me to call for you.”

When I don’t immediately respond, he talks over me.

“He mentioned that he’s cooking tonight. I think that was meant to be an incentive for you to come.”

I snort, remembering. Heart’s many things, but a cook isn’t one of them. Everyone besides Heart himself seems to know that. Heart— he just thinks that if he keeps trying, he’ll get better. He’s not wrong, I guess.

I get up, stumbling from sleep, and yawn. “I won’t be there. Just, don’t give me a few minutes.”

“I will tell everyone that you will be coming.”

I nod, though Logic can’t see that, and walk to my bathroom. I splash some water onto my face, trying to wake up. That walk must’ve taken more out of me than I thought. Also, I don’t understand the stomachache. Sides don’t get sick. Unless there’s something fundamentally wrong with how they’re doing their jobs, or how Thomas views them. But there’s been nothing like that, so that can’t be the reason.

“I’m fine,” I nod. My mirror self nods, too. Surprisingly, the stomachache ebbs a little. See? No cause for worry.

.

Everyone’s there for dinner, which surprises me.

I knew yesterday was a rare day.

The Sides all  _ try _ to eat meals together, to form some sort of routine to structure their days and maybe bond, but meals aren’t necessary. Fear and Creativity are usually absent, at least. Heart always tries, and because Logic loves all things structured and he loves Heart, he tries, too.

“I made oats!” Heart says, putting down the steaming pot in the middle of the table. “I know it’s not usually something you’d eat for dinner, but Fear wouldn’t let me make anything else.”

“You don’t know how to make anything else,” Fear says.

“I do! I know how to make omelets, noodles, pasta, bread—”

“All of which you undercook, overcook, or hurt yourself cooking.”

Heart pouts at him, and I laugh. I  _ do _ admire how Fear can cut off Heart like it’s nothing every time.

Dinner is just as loud as breakfast had been, which is fun. Halfway through, I wonder why Logic and Creativity are arguing over socks. I’m too tired to even understand  _ which _ part of the idea of blue socks they’re arguing about, and after we finish, Heart makes us all stay in the living room.

“It’s movie night!” Heart squeals. I check— and yep, Thomas is settling in with his parents, and they’re trying to pick out which movie they want to watch.

“Beauty and the Beast!” Creativity shouts, and Thomas echoes him.

“We already watched that  _ five _ times,” Fear says. “Why not Black Cauldron?”

“But I wanna watch Beauty and the Beast,” Creativity whines.

In the end, Thomas and his parents pick Tangled, which everyone settles into. Creativity sprawls across the couch, leaning against Heart, who’s curled up at the end. Fear just sits on the floor beside me, and Logic gingerly sits where Creativity’s kicked his feet, not-so-gently pushing his legs off. I duck when his flailng legs hit my head, and Fear snorts.

I glare at him, though I can’t see his expression in the dark, and Logic apologizes.

“It’s not fine,” I say, if only to stop Logic from muttering his strings of sorry’s, I-wan’t-thinking’s, and I-didn’t-see-you’s. “It didn’t hurt, anyway.”

“Does… that mean it  _ did _ hurt?”

“What?” Oh, right, whoops. “It’s fine. Seriously. Sit down, Logic. I can say the truth sometimes, too.”

Yuck. Bitter as it is. But it’s honestly a good break from all the sweetness that had been plaguing my tongue from the lies I’ve been saying lately. I really should find a way around that. There should be ways to talk without speaking in truths  _ or _ lies. I’d know, since asking questions or saying half-complete thoughts, or even giving out commands, haven’t evoked any tastes on my tongue so far.

Soon, Logic does sit down, and I find my eyes drifting shut as the movie progresses.

.

I wake up on Fear’s shoulder, slumped back into Logic’s legs.

I freeze, as I become aware of these facts.

I really hope the other two are asleep, too.

But the movie’s still playing, and I doubt it, because Creativity’s laughing at something, and Logic says something else.

I close my eyes, slowing my breathing, willing myself back to sleep.

Nope. I am  _ not _ dealing with this situation today. I’m tired, and I don’t want to drown in my embarrassment.

Surprisingly, I  _ do _ fall back asleep.

.

“Ly? Come on, Ly, lets get you back to bed. Come on, stand up— ”


	5. Some Homework and Some Cooking

My eyes flutter open, and I wish I could go back to sleep.

But I hear someone moving around somewhere, the clink of metal, the sizzle of something cooking.

I sit up, looking around.

I’m on the couch, a fuzzy blue blanket draped over me. I shake my head, and look towards the kitchen, where I see Logic moving around. I must’ve been staring for a long while, before he looks over at me. He nods, in greeting.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Morning,” I nod, feeling a lot more awake. “What happened?”

“If you are referring to last night, we couldn’t wake you up, so Fear moved you to the couch. Are you comfortable?”

“No, no, I’m not fine.” I say, waving my hand. Ugh, Fear’s had to carry me  _ twice _ now. And I’m still not sure if he hates me or not. I sigh, stifling a yawn. I’m still kind of sleepy. “Why are you up so early?”

Logic goes back to frying— eggs, I think, from the smell— “Dinner wasn’t quite enough, and I could not focus on my work. So I’m making a snack. I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you, you can go back to sleep now.”

“You always wake up this early?” I ask. I can’t tell what time it is, but Thomas is deeply asleep.

“Most of the time, yes.”

I yawn, but I swing my legs off of the couch. I’m too awake now. I’ve been sleeping a lot recently. “Why?”

I stand up, stretching. Logic doesn’t answer for a few more seconds, which is weird, but I don’t push it. Maybe I should get a snack, too.

I wander into the kitchen, and spot the cookie I’d left on the counter last time. I snort angrily, and move to throw it away— maybe Creativity hadn’t put anything  _ too _ weird in, but I don’t exactly trust him— but I pause. I look at Logic, thinking.

“Logic,” I say. “How much does Creativity need your help, in making things?”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, the Imagination isn’t pretty real. I think he could’ve made it without any logic involved.”

This drags a tired sigh from Logic, and he takes a moment to respond.

“I don’t play any role in the Imagination. I’m not even sure  _ Creativity _ knows the extent of how much he’s created, and how much has simply appeared in the Imagination over the years. I have a theory that the Imagination borrows heavily from Thomas’s memories in the library, as much as it relies on Creativity’s spontaneous ideas.”

Ah. 

I nod. “So you would know something about this cookie.”

“Pardon? I’m not sure I follow.”

I roll my eyes. “Creativity didn’t summon this yesterday, to show me how summoned food doesn’t taste the same as food we make. But then when everyone left, he didn’t tell me he put something special in it.”

“I would throw that away,” Logic nods. “If you’ve ingested any part of it, you may need to tell Heart. He can usually heal us when we get hurt.”

I sigh, chucking the cookie into the trash. “I think it’s that bad. Something’s happened, but— ”

I pause, thinking. The stomachache? Was  _ that _ what it was from? Ha. I didn’t eat much of the cookie, just a tiny nibble off the edge, so I didn’t expect anything to happen, just suspected something  _ might _ . But I guess the stomache’s the result of eating that thing. There’s no other explanation for it.

“Did something happen?” Logic asks, and I shake my head.

“Something important. Do you know if there’s any hot chocolate around? I’m not craving some all of a sudden.”

“Top cabinet.”

I search around, and find a box of hot chocolate packets. I grab one, and empty it into a cup.

“Are you going to stay awake after this?” I ask.

Logic nods, hefting his omelet onto his plate. “I’m planning on going over Thomas’s homework.”

I groan, but I’m smiling. “Do you ever do anything besides Thomas’s homework?”

But Logic seems to take offense to this, and he scowls. “Of course I do. I manage his memories, his schedules, his day-to-day— ”

“I wasn’t  _ kidding _ .”

Logic blinks at me. “Oh.”

I go back to warming my hot chocolate, yawning again. But Logic seems to still be thinking over what I said.

“I apologize,” he says, formally. “I’m not used to— interacting casually. I’m aware that I may miss many social cues, but I am attempting to be more aware of them.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, forcing the truth out, startled by his honesty. “I didn’t mean it seriously.”

He’s scrunching his brows together, similar to Creativity’s expression when I’d ‘complimented’ his singing.

I end up laughing— for two Sides that think they can’t work together, they look surprisingly similar right now. This seems to agitate him even more, though, and I freeze, trying to think of words to explain that I wasn’t laughing  _ at _ him— 

“That expression didn’t just remind me of Creativity,” I blurt out. “That’s why I didn’t laugh.”

“What expression?”

I giggle, then press a finger into where his eyebrows come together. “That one.”

His eyes widen suddenly, and he takes a few steps back, his hand on his forehead. “Oh.”

_ Whoops _ . Heart’s comfortable touching everyone, and everyone’s comfortable with Heart. I guess I just carried over some of his touchiness just now?

Logic doesn’t say anything after that, he just takes his plate and walks out, settling at the table. I grab my hot chocolate from the microwave, and because I’m not sure whether or not I’d make things awkward by sitting with him, I sit on the couch, bringing my legs up.

I sip at my hot chocolate, letting the pleasant warmth slide down my throat and distract me from my thoughts. My mug is scorching to touch, but I’m just glad for the heat, and cradle it in my hands, letting the steam fog over my face. This is nice. But now that I realize it, I  _ am _ feeling really cold, and wish I hadn’t thrown the blanket off.

I close my eyes and enjoy a long sip again, the sweet scent of milky chocolate filling my lungs. Forget Sides not needing food to live. Just like occasional showers, these are just necessities of life. They’re amazing.

“Do you… want to help me with Thomas’s homework?”

I look over at Logic, startled. I thought he was uncomfortable and we weren’t speaking to each other? But, judging by the honest expression on Logic’s face, that might not be the case.

“... No,” I say, aware that Logic doesn’t need help doing Thomas’s homework, and that he always handles it alone. I don’t know  _ what’s _ happening, just that it looks like he’s trying to reach out to me.

Logic smiles, though it seems more like a polite gesture than a genuine one. “Excellent. Lets go to my room. It’s easier to focus there.”

.

Logic’s door is blue.

It’s painted a dark, reassuring blue, and as I wait for him to open his door, I glance at mine. Witch a flick of my wrist, my door paints itself yellow. I frown, and change the nameplate, too. I smile a little when it becomes a black marble with golden lettering.  _ Fancy _ .

Logic had noticed what I was doing, and was watching with open curiosity.

“It suits you,” he says.

I shrug. “It doesn’t.”

He nods and steps into his room, and I follow.

Oh.

I love his room.

As I step inside, a weird, buzzing calm fills me. 

His walls are covered in layers and layers of papers and notes, and a dark blue peeks out from here and there from between the gaps. He has a whole wall dedicated to a bookshelf, and another one for a whiteboard. A large study table takes up the rest of the room, surrounded by piles and piles of more books and papers. A small bed is pushed into the corner of it all, a window opening over it, showing a glittering sky filled with stars

“I apologize for the clutter.” Logic says, seeming to hesitate, as I stare around at all the cool toys that fill one half his bookcase, with the other half being full of books. There are models of solar systems, rubix cubes, weird test tubes—I wouldn’t have pegged Logic for being messy, but he seems to have some weird organization system to it all. At least, he knows what he’s doing when he shifts a stack of textbooks near his desk, and pulls out a folder with the huge words, “May 27— HOMEWORK” scrawled across it.

He snaps his fingers, and I jump, as all of the clutter around his desk disappears, leaving only the study table and two chairs

“This should help you focus better,” he says.

“Your room isn’t  _ really _ cool,” I say, still distracted by the rest of the room’s contents.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling back one of the chairs and sitting down, the folder still in hand. “We should get to Language Arts, first. That’s due tomorrow.”

I nod, and Logic passes me a worksheet.

“Lets work on these together and then we can discuss our answers afterwards.” He says.

I look down at the questions— I’m glad we decided to start on Language Arts. I can answer everything pretty easily, and when Logic and I compare answers in the end, he seems pleasantly surprised.

“Your answers are really well-worded,” he says.

I smile, though I can feel my ears start to warm a little. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Logic praise anyone before. And he’s the type to be objective about these sorts of things. That’s… well, that’s  _ some _ thing. 

It’s the same for history— which is just the memorization of facts, but then we move on to science and maths. 

I groan, cradling my aching head.

“I totally understand what these words are,” I admit.

“That’s alright,” Logic says, shaking his head. “These are my strongest subjects. I probably won’t need any help.”

“And you needed  _ so _ much help on Language Arts and History.”

“That… well, those were just enjoyable to do in your company. And you seem to pick better words than I do.”

I groan again, sinking into my arms. “If you keep complimenting me, my face won’t turn red.”

“Is… that so.” He says, and it sounds strange. I look up to see him scrunching his brows again.

I throw my pencil at him, and he looks startled.

“Keep doing that.” I protest.

“Doing what?”

“That,” I say, sinking into my arms again.

He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t look up. Then I hear him pick up his pencil, and he starts working on the problems again. I let my thoughts wander, and I find my eyes catching on his bookshelf.

I push my chair back and stand up, walking over. Most of these seem to be textbooks. Trust Logic to have these in his  _ room _ . I wonder if he enjoys reading them.

“Could I borrow one?” I ask, pulling out some history book.

“I don’t mind.”

I flip through it, finding the contents long-winded and truthfully, boring.

I put it back, and look for another. 

I eventually find something about philosophy, that looks kind of interesting, and settle on the floor, leaning back on Logic’s bed to read. I open the book and soon, we settle into a comfortable silence. I was starting to get afraid that I’d fall asleep again— but, surprisingly, the book holds my interest.

.

Eventually, the window above my head brightens.

It distracts me just enough to drag me out of the book, which was honestly a pretty intense study about ethics that I found both confusing and fascinating at the same time. But then I look up, and see a purpling sky. Soon, the color melts into a pink, and then an orange and a light dusting of blue.

There’s a knock on the door, and I flinch.

“Logic! It’s your turn to make breakfast!”

Logic puts down whatever he’d been looking through, and opens the door. “I will be right with you. I have to put away my things.”

“Alright,” Heart chuckles. “See— ”

“And Lying’s here, so you don’t have to call for him.”

There’s a pause after that, then— 

“ _ Were you two spending time together? _ ” Heart squeals, and it’s loud. “That’s so  _ cute! _ ”

Logic seems to think it’s loud, too, but Heart’s already giggling, and walking away. Logic shuts the door and looks over at me.

“Are you joining us for breakfast?” He asks.

“No,” I say, nodding. And then a thought strikes me— Heart is terrible at cooking, and Creativity isn’t allowed because he thinks following recipes is boring— “Can I help you cook?”

That makes Logic pause, too, and he hesitates. “...Alright.”

.

Turns out, the experience of cooking that I remember from all the Sides isn’t enough. But it also turns out, I’m pretty good with my hands.

“Take that off!” Logic all but screeches, and I set down the egg I’d been trying to crack, before lunging across the kitchen to take out the toast. It had been sitting in the middle of a pan— apparently burning. Logic physically flinches at the sight when I put it aside on a plate.

“We went over by forty-four seconds,” Logic is mumbling. “Forty-four seconds over two minutes.”

“It’s really that bad,” I say, brushing past Logic, before I go back to trying to break another egg. “It definitely doesn’t look edible.”

“ _ Forty-four _ seconds.”

“Recipes weren’t meant to be improvised. Maybe I like toast a little bit on the burnt side?”

“Do you?”

“Yes. But I do mind.”

“Perhaps it’s time to switch.”

“You just focus on peeling those apples, because _I’m_ _not_ dealing with knives.”

“Or you could just let  _ me _ cook.”

“It’s not fine, Logic,” I laugh, as another egg falls into the perfect hole I’d made in the toast. I quickly throw out the eggshells and stand over the egg and toast, this time planning to let this one fully cook before moving on to making the next one. Logic already looks like he’s about to throw me out of the kitchen, and I don’t really want to add fuel to the fire.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” Heart asks, poking his head in.

“ _ No! _ ” Logic and I snap.

I glance over, realizing we might’ve been harsh, but Heart just giggles, and I see him snap a photo of us.

After that, I’m pretty careful, though when Logic is done with the apple milkshakes, he starts hovering over my shoulder. I tell him I’m fine, and at least he doesn’t try to stop me from making the rest of the toast. But he  _ does _ breathe a sigh of relief when I’m done, and turn the stove off.

We carry the plates of food to the table, and I slump back in my chair, breathing hard. The first time in my life cooking… had been a little nerve-wracking, but it had been fun.

“This looks great!” Heart says, as he sits down. “We all knew Logic could cook, but you weren’t too bad, Ly.”

I shrug. “It wasn’t just toast and eggs.”

“You’re right. They’re  _ delicious _ toast and eggs.”

I snort, at Heart’s endless optimism. I find my eyes wandering to the empty chairs— I guess this is where the miracles stop, and Fear and Creativity skip out on meals again. I should just be glad they’d been here the past two days, because even  _ that _ had been surprising.

“The taste is satisfactory,” Logic comments. “With a little more practice, you will be perfectly capable of cooking on your own.”

“What’s with all the compliments today?” I ask, grinning.

“Logic gave you _ compliments? _ On what?” Heart asks.

“Language Arts and History homework,” I say.

“You did homework together!” Heart squeals. “Logic never lets us help!”

“I  _ do _ ask for your help,” Logic interrupts. “You helped to write Thomas’s journal last week, and I asked for Creativity and Fear’s input on his art project.”

“Yeah, but you never let us do any of the  _ other _ subjects.”

“Not— just not all the time.” Logic says, but he’s hesitating.

I chuckle. “I don’t feel special now.”

“You  _ should! _ ” Heart says, kicking my leg softly under the table.

“Next time we hang out, we should do something besides homework,” I suggest.

“...Okay,” Logic says, nodding.

When we’re done, and I’m waiting on the couch with Logic for Heart to finish doing the dishes— it’s his turn today, apparently— Logic summons up a book again, which reminds me of the one I left in his room.

“Can I borrow the one I was reading?” I ask, breaking his concentration.

He tilts his head, and another book appears in his free hand. “This one?”

I smile, recognizing the title. “Yeah!”

“...You’re welcome to borrow my books any time,” he says, as I take it out of his hands.

“Really? Great!”

I settle back, turning the book to the page I’d been on.

“Does this mean you’re going to spend all afternoon reading?” Heart asks, from the kitchen. “I was hoping to take you guys with me to put the leftovers by Fear and Creativity’s doors.”

Oh. Right, Heart does that. When Sides (read: Fear and Creativity) skip meals, Heart leaves plates of food outside their doors. I think he does it just because  _ then, _ they’d need to return those plates to the kitchen at some point. And when they come by to quietly put the dishes back and leave, Heart doesn’t let them.

“I won’t help,” I agree, putting the book down on the coffee table. I glance at Logic. “Are you coming?”

“I’ve been trying to get through this book for days,” Logic says. I nod, and hurry to help Heart as he tries to balance two plates and two glasses at the same time.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he smiles. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apple milkshakes?  
> They're a thing, and they're amazing.  
> Please try them.  
> (blend apples and milk together)
> 
> alsooo, leave comments if you can! I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing too!  
> EDIT: does anyone else read the "so you would know something about this cookie" in master shi fu's voice? Just me? ok


	6. Dark Sands and Darker Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soo... there may be breakdowns happening.  
> Fair warning.

“I’m… really glad you and Logic get along.”

I’m surprised, when Heart breaks the silence. I  _ thought _ it was weird that he wasn’t saying anything for so long, and then I find out I was right. He’s acting weird.

He sighs, but he still tries to smile. “I’m trying to get him to open up to me. But because Creativity never gets along with him and Fear...”

“Hey, it’s not fine,” I say, realizing this was one of those rare moments where Heart accidentally shows he’s not a bottomless pit of sunshine and hugs. I carefully pick out the truth, because I’m not sure how bad it’d sound if I messed up right now. “He loves you, we all do.”

“I know,” Heart says, and I’m  _ really _ hoping I didn’t see him grimace.

“...Are you okay?”

“What?” He asks, glancing over at me as if I’d asked if the world was round. “Of course I am, kiddo! I’m sorry for making you think I wasn’t!”

Ohh. Oh no. Why now? Why is no one else here to see this?

I’ve been a part of Heart long enough to know when he’s covering for something, I don’t even have to taste the air to know he’s lying. Which I do. The air tastes sweet. Too sweet.

We’re quiet for a minute— the hallways apparently chose today to feel really long— before I make myself say something, because I’m pretty sure I have to.

“Heart… I know when you’re lying.”

His smile brightens, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what else to say though, so I don’t, either.

We reach Creativity’s door, which is painted a blank white. Heart sets down the plate of food and cup carefully on the ground, and smiles at me again when he straightens up.

“You can go back, Ly. I’ll take Fear’s— ” He reaches forward for the food in my hand, and I step out of his reach, without thinking.

“I don’t want to see Fear’s room,” I say, slowly. “So, I don’t want to come with you.”

“He’s not in his room, so it’s too bad! He’s in the Subconsciousness right now!”

I side-step another grab at the food, and start walking. “I don’t know where that is. Don’t let me help.”

“ _ Lying _ .”

I pause, turning to look at him. But whatever emotion he’d said my name with is gone, and he takes the food and drink out of my hands.

“Thanks, Ly. But I can handle this,” he grins, and walks off.

Well.

That wasn’t concerning.

I don’t know what’s happened— Heart isn’t the type to show anyone when he’s upset. I don’t even know if his current mood was brought on by a single event, or a buildup of smaller events. I don’t even know what I’d do if I knew.

I’m starting to understand Logic’s ‘we need an authority figure for crisis situations.’

Because Heart freaking out on me just now  _ is _ a crisis situation.

.

I go back to the living room, where Logic is still sitting, reading his book.

“Logic… when does Fear go into the Subconsciousness?”

He looks up, startled. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. Can you repeat— ”

“When does Fear do to the Subconsciousness? Does he go there when there isn’t any danger?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.” Logic says, frowning. “He usually stays in his room, unless he decides to come out for meals, or if there are monsters in the Subconsciousness.”

“So what does it mean if he’s there right now?”

“Lying. Please take in deep breaths. I can count them out for you.”

“I can  _ calm down _ ,” I say. “Heart didn’t just break on me, and he didn’t say Fear’s in the Subconsciousness.”

“Lying, please. Follow my count.”

I close my eyes, pressing my hands to my ears and focusing on my breaths.

Okay.

We need to go to the Subconsciousness right now.

I don’t know if we can help.

But this isn’t the time to be freaking out.

I feel a touch on my shoulder, and Logic is standing in front of me, expressionless.

“Fear’s had to deal with monsters many times before. We don’t always know when they attack. He’s always,  _ always _ , handled them well on his own.”

“But there was that one time— ”

“Creativity had to help him, yes. It was a rare situation. And all of us knew what was happening. Thomas was in clear danger. There’s nothing like that happening now.”

He’s right.

I’m just freaking out for no reason.

Everything’s fine.

Heart just raised his voice at me, which he never,  _ ever _ does, but it’s fine.

“What did you say about Heart ‘breaking’?”

I laugh, forcing it out. “Something that dramatic. He just, was feeling well, I think.”

“...Alright.” Logic says, but I hear the hesitance in his voice. “Are you feeling better now?”

I smile at him, gratefully. “No thanks to you.”

He nods, his eyes widening. But then he stands up and sits down on the couch again. “Would… watching movies help you?”

“I’m not fine now,” I laugh. “I think I’ll just go to my room.”

“Okay.” He says, trying to smile for me. I smile back, feeling grateful again. I just handed Logic an almost full-on breakdown. He doesn’t handle emotions well, but he’d tried, and he’d done a pretty good job of it.

I grab my book off the coffee table and wave at him before I leave.

I’m going to talk to Fear.

.

I slow down when I reach the turn into the Subconsciousness.

I wonder if Heart’s still there right now, if there are terrifying monsters just beyond this hallway, if what I’m doing is very stupid.

I take another couple of breaths, clutching Logic’s book to my chest, as if it will protect me, and then I turn around the corner.

A blast of hot wind buffets my face, and I stumble back, when I see the nightmarish scene in front of me.

Fear— it  _ must _ be Fear, but all I see is a huge, shadowy spider— is swinging around at the top of another shadow’s head, this one tall and almost humanoid as it claws its way through the sand, reaching towards the entrance to the mind Palace, where I stand frozen.

The shadow swats at where Fear is desperately hanging on, and Fear is thrown aside. Suddenly, the shadowy shape starts crawling towards me again, it’s efforts unhindered. And then Fear flies in out of nowhere, sinking his face into the shadow’s neck. There’s a loud hissing that fills my ears, and the shadow keels over, twitching in the sand.

And then Fear is turning around, launching himself at another shadow.

I back away, and collapse around the corner, from where I can only vaguely hear the sounds of the struggles going on just beyond.

Faintly, I realize there is no plate of food around.

I rest my forehead on my knees, with the resolve to wait.

.

I hear footsteps, after a long while.

Fear stumbles around the corner, his breaths labored, and obviously weak on his feet.

I jump to my feet to help— he stumbles back, falling on the ground, hissing.

His eyes are pitch black, and I freeze, watching him as he frantically pushes himself away from me, clearly afraid and very defensive.

Finally, after a few moments, his hissing peters off, and then his eyes slowly clear.

“Lying?” He says, as if tasting a foreign word on his tongue.

“Are you okay?”

He stares at me, his eyes clear now. He blinks, then rubs at his eyes, then looks at me again. “Are you… really here?”

“Um, yeah?” I say, unsure.

“Where— where’s Heart?”

“Didn’t Heart bring you food?”

“No?” The answer sinks into him, and he starts to look frantic. “No! Was he supposed to? Is he in danger? Is he  _ missing? _ ”

“Yes, yes— calm down, nothing’s fine,” I say, the words falling from my lips in quick succession, agitated. Seeing both Heart  _ and _ Fear on edge today really isn’t helping me believe my lies that everything is fine. What in the world is happening to Thomas that I don’t know about?

But Fear isn’t listening, he’s curling in on himself, his hands in his hair.

“Fear!” I say, crouching down in front of him. “Fear, what’s wrong? Should I— should I— ”

His breaths are coming faster and faster.  _ Oh _ . I know what Heart would do, he’d be rubbing Fear’s back and saying calming words? I don’t know, I’ve just barely recovered from my own breakdown!

“Take me to the Subconsciousness,” he hisses.

I glance at the beach, which is only a few feet from where we are now.

“Now!” He yells, and I drop Logic’s book on the ground, helping him up, as he whimpers— yes,  _ whimpers _ — and clutches at my shirt.

We hobble over to the Subconsciousness, and I help lower him into the sand.

He sinks into it, still tightly wound up.

I let my gaze skip over the empty beach— as eerily peaceful and as dead-looking as it had been before, as if Fear hadn’t just been struggling for his life here.

I sit beside Fear, not touching him, remembering how jumpy he is. I let out a breath. What is going on anymore?

Eventually, Fear lowers his arms, he uncurls from himself, he lets out a tired breath.

“There aren’t any monsters in the Mind Palace.” He says.

“Yes.”

“Heart isn’t in danger.”

“Yes.”

“ _ No one’s _ in danger.”

“Yes.”

“Then why—” He pauses, as if checking himself. But then he yells anyway. “ _ Why are you here? _ ”

“I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“And it couldn’t have waited until  _ later? _ ”

“Uh, I don’t think so… ”

He huffs. “Fine. What is it? Why were you lurking around the corner like some  _ shadow monster? _ ”

I laugh, a little unsteadily.

I don’t have many memories of Fear.

Just some from Heart— some pleasant, some of it unpleasant. Some from Logic, all of them brief interactions. Some from Creativity, usually only when Heart was around.

So I don’t know much about the guy, and I don’t know how to pick the right words for him.

Also, my stomach’s hurting again. I’m not sure why— maybe I haven’t worked stupid Creativity’s cookie out of my system— so I ignore it. I’m  _ fine _ .

“I just didn’t want to know if something was wrong with Thomas.”

Fear stares at me.

“You… waited for me, specifically, to ask me that question because it was so important you couldn’t have asked the other Sides?”

“But you’re not different!”

“Thomas is fine! Any other brilliant questions?”

“How is Thomas fine?” I snap. “Heart was on the verge of tears, and you’re here barely hanging onto your life!”

“...Heart’s going to be fine. And I  _ am _ fine.”

“How do you know that!” I’m shouting now, but I can’t help it. Everything was fine, everyone was fine, we were laughing and singing and eating s’mores, and then I see all of  _ this? _ “It isn’t  _ my _ job to lie, but you and Heart do that worse than I do! I even know why I’m a full Side, when both of you are around!”

“You need to calm down.”

“Why isn’t everyone telling me that! I can calm down! I will!”

“Unless you want monsters coming after you, you  _ will _ calm down.”

That makes me freeze. “...Monsters?”

“Negative emotions are attracted to negative emotions. They show up if you’re feeling bad.”

“ _ Why would you ask me to bring you here? _ ”

“Because it helps me calm down.”

“Well, it sure helps  _ me _ calm down!”

I’m on my feet now, glaring at him. But he doesn’t react, doesn’t move. Slowly, I force down my frustration, and sit in the sand again. 

“Are you okay now?” He asks, his voice soft.

“Am  _ I _ okay?” I repeat. “I didn’t just see you fighting for your life. Those things— they weren’t terrifying, and I wasn’t just  _ watching _ .”

“I’m fine,” he breathes again. I check the air— nope, he’s definitely not fine. I’m sensing a pattern here. “This is my  _ job _ . And I’m good at it. I’m not even scared of those things anymore. I don’t feel anything when I’m fighting with them.”

“That’s— ” I stop. Actually, that’s the truth. I shudder. What has Fear  _ been _ through?

“And don’t worry about Heart.” Fear says, almost sounding bitter. “He’s like that sometimes. He’s just being dramatic.”

_ That _ sends me rocketing right back to anger.

“ _ Heart? _ ” I manage to spit out. “ _ Heart’s _ being dramatic? That guy probably wouldn’t be bleeding to death right in front of our eyes and he wouldn’t say he’s fine and go help somebody else!”

“...He  _ is _ stupid like that.”

“You can say he’s ‘overreacting’ when he’s clearly  _ fine! _ ”

Fear sighs. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. That’s what you want, right?”

“What— What is  _ wrong _ with you? Why do you look like you don’t care about him as much as I do? Do you  _ hate _ him? Do you hate  _ all  _ of us?”

Fear looks at me evenly, and I glare back, only now becoming aware of my words. Woah. I  _ kind of _ went too far? Of course Fear doesn’t hate— 

Fear drops low to the ground, and his form slowly changes, falls away, becoming longer, darker, bigger. I stumble away from him when he looks up, no longer human, but a gigantic spider with six crimson eyes.

“Uhh… Fear?” I ask. Is he going to kill me just because I crossed the line? That doesn’t even sound right. “I’m— sorry I said all that, I know you love all— ”

He hisses, and launches himself past me. My breath catches in my throat, and I watch as he tackles a humanoid shadow to the ground, hissing and spitting.

I find myself frozen to the spot as Fear struggles with the shadow monster, rolling around and around in the dark sand with it as the thing desperately struggles to get up, to claw towards me. Fear wraps his long legs around it, refusing to let go of his hold on the thing. Two fangs open up from his mouth, and he sinks them into the shadow’s side.

And then the monster dissolves, along with Fear’s form, and Fear stands up from the sand, wiping off dark trails of liquid that drip from his mouth.

“I hate him.”

He says it with so much venom I don’t know who he means, until he starts stalking towards me.

“Don’t you know he hates us, too?” Fear asks, grinning lopsidedly, his eyes wild, in the most emotion I’ve seen from him yet. “We’re parts of a whole. Heart couldn’t accept all the  _ ugly _ parts of himself like  _ Fear _ or  _ Lying _ , he hated us so much we split from him!”

“And look at us!” He laughs, stopping a few feet away from me. “I’m a  _ monster _ , and all  _ you _ do is lie. You can’t even say what you want to say! Isn’t that funny? We’re not like Logic or Creativity. At least  _ they’re _ allowed to have emotions. But I’m just  _ Fear _ , and  _ you’re _ just Lying. That’s all we exist to do.”

“That does make sense,” I say, shaking my head. “Sides do work like that— you don’t know this— ”

Fear lunges at me, and we stumble back into the sand, Fear hunched over me, his eyes starting to fade to black.

“ _ You don’t know anything yet! _ ” He hisses. “You’ll see. What it feels like when your whole existence just amounts to  _ Lying _ . The others will stop trusting you, and Heart will be watching, for that  _ one _ weakness, for that  _ single _ mistake. As soon as you make  _ one _ wrong move, he’ll stop accepting you, and he’ll make you  _ wander _ .”

At his last words, I feel the breath knocked out of me.

Of course.

Sides aren’t allowed in the Grey Hallways. 

It’s a rule Heart makes sure no one breaks because Heart doesn’t want to lose them.

That time— that memory, of the Side who tried to sink out from the Grey Halls but couldn’t go back home— that was  _ Fear’s _ .

Then Fear’s weight over me disappears, and I cough, sitting up, in time to see Fear launching himself at another shadow that rises from the water. Even as I watch, more and more monsters are rising, their heads all swiveling to Fear.

I push myself to my feet, and start running, towards the entrance to the Mind Palace.

I blink.

Is that Heart?

Heart stands frozen at the entrance, plate and glass clutched firmly in hand, his eyes on Fear. His expression is tight, not like anything I’ve seen on his face before. It looks like he’s one step away from shattering completely.

“Heart!” I yell.

He tears his eyes away from fighting, and his eyes widen when they fall on me.

The sands are making this  _ so _ difficult. I’m 100% sure Fear and I hadn’t walked this far into the beach, so why am I so far from the entrance? Another stupid quirk of the Subconsciousness?

The food drops from Heart’s hands, and Heart’s running towards me, his face set in determination. That’s weird. Why does he look so freaked out?

I look over my shoulder, and fall, when I see the shadow clawing its way towards me.

Fear’s too far to get to me in time.

So is Heart.

I’m going to die.

I close my eyes tightly, my heart jumping in my throat.

I’m going to  _ die _ .

I’m going to  _ die _ .

I’m going to  _ die _ .

And then I hear an inhumane screech as the monster no doubt launches itself at me.

_ Go away! _

I’m  _ not _ going to die!

_ I won’t die! _

Something digs into my sides, and I open my eyes to complete darkness.

But then the shadows around me shift, and move, showing me hints of the grey sky, the dark sands. And then the shadow is gone,

Heart is crouching in the sand with me, his arms wrapped around me, sobbing into my shoulder.

I feel so, so tired,

and I let my eyes fall shut, giving in to Heart’s warmth.


	7. Heart Opens Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soo... I tried?

“—have happened if you didn’t break down in front of him!”

“I didn’t! I didn’t show him anything— I _know_ how much the others need to see me strong!”

“Then why was he freaking out? He said you were about to cry!”

“I’m not _used_ to this! The others never— ”

I keep my eyes shut, pretending to sleep.

Now _this_ , I definitely need to hear.

“The others never _notice_ . But Ly knows when I’m _lying_.”

Fear snorts. “Right. The new Side is _exactly_ what we need right now. You did this on purpose.”

“You know that’s not _how it works!_ ” Wow. Heart’s— yeah, Heart’s _mad_ . I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell that loud. But some memories of Heart’s point to otherwise, Fear always seems to bring out a different side to Heart. “I _don’t_ control what new Sides appear! If I did, Hate and Rage wouldn’t be wandering right now!”

My breath hitches— Hate and Rage? Thomas has Sides like _that_ wandering around unattended?

I hear movement, and hold still as someone comes closer.

“You’re awake.”

Fear’s voice sounds right at my ear, and I flinch.

“Just wake up. You know everything now, and we need to talk.”

I hesitate, debating on whether or not I should just pretend to keep on sleeping, but then I decide against it, and sit up, smiling sheepishly.

“Good morning?” I say, smiling at them.

We’re definitely in Heart’s room.

It doesn’t feel as calming as Logic’s does— right now, I just feel anxiety radiating off the walls. But the room is nice, it’s a typical bedroom with a desk off to the side, strings and strings of photos decorating one wall, full of photographs and memories of both Thomas and Sides alike. Fairy lights hang from the ceiling in arcs, twinkling prettily. A huge window opens up on the wall opposite the door, and light blue curtains flutter in a summery breeze from beyond.

“Your room isn’t nice,” I comment.

But both Fear and Heart seem in no mood to appreciate Heart’s room.

“ _Heeey_ , kiddo,” Heart says, laughing nervously, but he sounds almost guilty, his voice small. He stands a little away from the bed, awkwardly moving his arms.

His eyes are puffy, and I remember he’d been sobbing the last I saw him.

“You’re going to pretend you know _nothing_.” Fear hisses, shoving a finger into my chest, pulling my attention away from Heart.

“Fear,” Heart protests weakly.

“So what’s wrong with Thomas?” I ask.

“ _Nothing’s—_ ” Heart starts.

“ _It doesn’t matter,_ ” Fear cuts in. “We’re all going to be fine as long as you keep your mouth shut.”

“Fear!” Heart protests, this time louder.

“So Heart isn’t breaking down for whatever reason, you aren’t freaking out and keeping him quiet, Hate and Rage aren’t wandering around Thomas’s mind,” I say, listing them off on my fingers. “So… what else is there to know?”

That stupid stomachache— it’s back, and I’m _really_ not in the mood for that right now. I’m _fine_ , it’s Thomas who isn’t. I don’t know why I hadn’t realized all this sooner, both Fear and Heart look so tightly wound up.

Fear’s eyes are starting to turn black, his teeth becoming sharper. Heart puts a hand on his shoulder, as if he could tell what’s happening even though Fear isn’t facing him.

“I already don’t know everything else.” I say. “Just don’t tell me the rest. Maybe I can’t help.”

“We’re doing _fine—_ ” Fear starts.

“ _Lie_.” I cut in.

“Don’t do that!” He snarls. “Stop doing that weird thing with your tongue!”

I cover my mouth, glancing in the mirror. A startled-looking Thomas stares back at me. I can taste truths and lies better if I open my mouth a little and stick my tongue out. I didn’t know I was doing that— well, I didn’t know how it would look to an outsider. Mirror-me’s ears redden.

“That does matter!” I snap. “I’m not just doing my _job_. So don’t tell me what else I need to know.”

Fear looks about ready to yell at me again, but Heart pulls him back, putting himself in the space between us.

“It’s my fault.” He says, his voice quiet.

“ _Heart!_ ”

“He already knows everything else.” Heart says. 

“ _We don’t know—_ ”

“And maybe he’s right. Maybe he can help.”

Fear looks angry, he looks like he’s about to _attack_ us.

But he just backs away, and stalks towards the door.

“Call me when this blows up in your face,” he says, as he throws open the door. “You always need _me_ to clean up your messes.”

He slams the door as he leaves, and I stare after him, then look at Heart.

They have… a very weird relationship.

“I should show you something.” Heart says, his voice barely a whisper.

“Okay,” I say, slowly. This doesn’t look like it will end well.

Heart gets on his knees, pulling up the fuzzy blue rug in his room. I watch, curiously, until I see the faint edges of something on his wooden floor. Heart hooks his fingers around the wood, and tugs. A part of the floor comes away, to reveal familiar grey walls.

I’ve gotten up from the bed at some point, and I walk to his side, looking through the trap door.

There’s a ladder there, leading into a Grey Hallway.

I look at Heart.

He avoids my eyes and starts climbing down the ladder. “Come on.”

I take a breath, and follow.

Heart jumps off the bottom rung of the ladder, and I do the same. It’s just another Grey Hallway. I don’t know why Heart has a ladder to it.

But then we see the two doors, and the labels on them, and I stop.

Hate and Rage have rooms? In the Grey Hallways? _Is that even possible?_

“Do you want to meet them?” Heart says, his voice flat. “They don’t really… respond, much, since these rooms aren’t real rooms. They’re more like… ” He flinches. “Cages, to keep them from walking around without permission.”

Do I want to meet the embodiments of Hate and Rage? Unsurprisingly, my answer is no.

“Do you want me to meet them?” I ask, instead.

Heart seems as startled by the consideration as I am. I’m not nice, at least, I don’t think. ‘Selfless’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I try to describe my limited personality at the moment. But who knows. I’ve only existed for a couple of days.

“The only other Side who’s met them is Fear,” Heart says, his voice still maddeningly soft. Where did his optimism go? His blinding sunshine? This is just _wrong_. “I think… I’d like to know what you think.”

I nod, gesturing towards the doors. “Then I won’t meet them.”

I _really, really_ don’t want to, and I may or may not be terrified at whatever lurks behind those doors. But, for Heart? It’s not even a question.

Heart nods, taking a breath, and pushes open Rage’s door.

For some reason I thought he’d take some more time to prepare himself— maybe summon up a sword or something, just in case— so I jump when the door swings open. He walks in as if he’s just strolling into his own room, and I hurry to follow him.

The inside is dark, and there’s an ominous tapping sound echoing in the room around us.

“Rage?” Heart calls softly. “Can I turn the lights on?”

There’s no reply, and Heart claps his hands.

A dim light slowly brightens the room, and I see Rage sitting at the edge of a bed, his whole body tight with some emotion, as he softly taps the tips of his nails into his bed frame. He doesn’t seem to realize we’re here, or even that the lighting’s changed. He just stares out at the window in his room, which shows a starry night sky.

“Rage,” Heart says, as if the Side would crumble if he raised his voice too high. “How have you been?”

Rage hums, and Heart nods, as if understanding.

“Have you been eating?” Heart asks. “Where’s the plate, kiddo?”

Rage doesn’t respond, and Heart goes about the room. I notice the room is a mess. The light’s dim enough that I hadn’t immediately seen the objects strewn all across the floor. The room would’ve looked like any of the other Sides’ bedrooms, if not for the broken objects littered around. His desk has dents over it, and a dresser stands with a broken mirror. Parts of his wall definitely have fists imprinted in them, and other chips and cracks.

Heart changes all of that with a few flicks of his fingers.

Some shards on the floor reassemble into a plate in Heart’s hands, with the toast I’d made this morning steaming gently on them.

I’m _so_ sure I didn’t make toast with Hate and Rage’s portions in mind this morning. Is this where all the leftovers go everyday?

“You didn’t eat again,” Heart sighs, leaving the food on Rage’s desk. “I’m coming back at dinner, okay? Please eat, Rage.”

We leave the room, Heart slowly easing the door shut, before Heart drops his careful smile. He lets out a breath. And then, without pause, he opens Hate’s door.

Again, the suddenness makes me flinch a bit, and I hurry to follow Heart in. So we’re not knocking? Would knocking offend Rage or Hate? I thought, I don’t know, maybe it would increase our chances of survival?

This room’s much better lit.

That’s the first thing I notice, before I notice all the photos tacked to the walls.

“Oh, Heart! I was expecting you to drop in!”

The pleasant voice that rings around the room doesn’t sound like it belongs to whoever hung all the photos on the walls. I recognize some of them, from Thomas’s memories. Some friends, a few teachers, an aunt, and many others. But instead of looking like they were hung up for memories, like in Heart’s room, these photos aren’t pleasant. I feel like Hate carefully picked the worst moments to immortalize these people. Like, during scowls, some yells, some smiles that look weirdly mocking.

“I was just trying to figure out why Thomas’s english teacher hates him. You have any ideas?”

I look over Heart’s shoulder to the smiling Side, who lounges casually on a chair, pencil twirling between his fingers.

“I thought you didn’t say they don’t respond?” I whisper.

Heart ignores me.

“Mrs. Gar? She loves everyone!” Heart says, sitting down on Hate’s bed, as if totally home in the environment, leaving me standing by the door, feeling exposed. “She even handed out candy over Valentines Day!”

“And she gave Thomas _cherry_ flavored lollipops.” Hate counters, his eyes running over me, but not seeming to register me. “Everyone knows cherry is the taste of _medicine_. Now why would she do that?”

Without waiting for a reply, Hate continues— “Because she hates Thomas! And recently, did you see the way she looks at him? She’s telling him it’s _his_ fault he got a fifty-six on her test, when it’s _her_ fault she suddenly asked us questions she didn’t prepare us for. And with the time limit? How could Thomas have _answered_ everything? And when he turned his test paper in last, I _know_ why she gave Thomas that smile! I know she was actually saying ‘Oh Thomas, you’re so stupid, how could you finish last _again?_ ’ Didn’t you get that? I totally saw that. And on Monday morning, when Samantha told Mrs. Gar that Thomas— ”

I blink, watching Hate dissolve into long ramblings, as Heart just nods along, making affirmative noises now and then to show that he’s listening.

Hate lists off a bunch of other people that _definitely_ hate Thomas, and then randomly rants about why broccoli is nature’s revenge against humanity.

I start tuning him out at some point, and back out the door. Neither seem to notice me leaving.

I sink down to the floor and wait. So… Heart wanted to show me he hadn't abandoned the wandering Sides? That… actually, that makes Heart even more likeable than before. Trust _Heart_ to come up with a solution— however flimsy— to try and take care of even the wandering Sides.

But I can see _so_ many ways this could go wrong.

If this is where Heart disappears everyday, without telling any of the rest of us, that means Heart’s putting himself in _danger_ everyday. Not to mention, both Sides look out of their minds. I appreciate Heart’s thoughts, but this is _definitely_ not the best solution for Hate and Rage. Providing them rooms, because the rooms aren’t ‘real,’ means they’re still suffering the effects of the Grey Hallways. Their rooms might _look_ solid, but the hum of the Grey Hallways had been loud inside, not even ebbing past the doors. Heart’s right. These are more like cages than rooms, just preventing these Sides from wandering.

I hear Heart making some excuses, promising he’d be back again in time for dinner. Then he comes out, gently shutting the door behind him. He lets out a longer sigh this time, before meeting my eyes.

“The Heart’s job is to take care of _everything_ in Thomas’s mind.” He says, finally, sinking to the floor beside me. “Every Side, every relationship, every emotion. I don’t even control which Sides are accepted. I want to like everyone— I _try_ to— but, if, some part of me thinks that they’re not good for Thomas, they don’t get rooms. This— all this— it isn’t my fault, but all of it _is_ , and everything that goes wrong is because _I_ didn’t notice sooner or because _I_ didn’t take it the right way. And Fear— ”

I grab Heart’s shoulders, cutting him off.

“I get it.” I say. “You’re overwhelmed. You have a lot to care about. You, honestly, have _too much_ to care about. _Anyone_ would be stressed in your place.”

“...Are you lying?”

I laugh, lowly. “No, I’m not.”

“But Fear says I’m being weak... He says it’s my fault for letting any Sides split from me in the first place— I don’t control that, either— I don’t even _know_ how new Sides appear— ”

“Fear doesn’t think you hate us. Me, and the wandering sides.”

“I _know!_ ” Heart says, and his voice cracks. He covers his face with his hands, hiding his expression from me. “Fear thinks I hate him! I told him I don’t! I told him that was an accident! But he doesn’t _listen!_ ”

I raise my arms, hesitating. But Heart’s clearly trying to hold himself back from crying, and it’s painful to watch. So I pull him into a hug, and he resists, before he pulls me closer to him, hugging me desperately.

It’s a weird feeling, to be the one comforting _Heart_ , of all Sides.

But I sit there, letting him hold onto me, somehow sinking back into that familiar feeling— of losing myself. The floor beneath me hums gently, and Heart’s warm, and if I lose focus for a second, I could melt into the feeling. He’s trying to resist crying, even now, but I can hear his breath hitching. Everything feels wrong. Heart’s being so weak, and I’ve never _seen_ him weak. I wonder if memories like this hadn’t been passed onto me on purpose, if Heart had somehow controlled that when I’d come into existence.

“Ly? Oh no, you’re losing focus. Ly, _get up!_ ”

He’s dragging me to my feet all of a sudden, and I struggle to stand up.

I don’t know how we get over the ladder, but we do, and I’m standing in Heart’s room again, my head spinning.

The room isn’t helping, now it’s radiating guilt.

“You shouldn’t really stop that,” I say, falling back on Heart’s bed. “Your room’s good for you.”

“What? Is my room having some effect on you?”

I shake my head. I guess Heart doesn’t feel the emotions forced onto me by his room. I’m not bringing that up right now, there are more important things to know.

“How come those Sides weren’t… you know, violent?” I ask.

Now it’s _Heart’s_ turn to laugh darkly. “Uh. I don’t know if you know. But all the Sides kinda need me. I’m the _Heart_. No one here’s going to hurt me.”

“Seems to stop Fear.”

Heart snorts, and I feel the bed sink as he sits besides me. “Fear wouldn’t hurt me.”

“He would,” I agree.

We slip into silence for a while, me trying to grab on to the feeling of being _alive_ , so I can snap myself out of the daze the Grey Hallways always put me in, and Heart… His room’s filled with anxiety again, so I can guess he’s thinking about something unpleasant. 

“Can you… keep this a secret from the others?” Heart asks, nervously.

I bark out a laugh. “Telling the Lying Side to keep secrets. That’s not my _job_.”

Heart sighs, but the anxiety in the room doesn’t drop. “Creativity’s just… dealing with his own things right now, and I don’t want Logic to blame himself. He would. Fear and I haven’t told him anything, and Logic already doubts himself so much… ”

“You might be wrong about that,” I mutter, wondering what sort of ‘things’ Creativity’s dealing with. “Logic’s more reliable than you give him credit for.”

Heart laughs. “Oh, kiddo. Knowing exactly where all the Sides are emotionally isn’t _my_ job.”

I gasp. “Heart, isn’t that _sarcasm_ I hear in your voice?”

He giggles— this time, genuinely— and pushes my shoulder. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

I smile. I got him to stop feeling nervous, at least for a little bit. 

It stops me from telling Heart that I don’t _try_ to be sarcastic. I kind of have no choice. But I’m just glad he’s feeling a little better. 

“But, really.” I say. “Logic can’t be trusted. More than he is. He’s just someone who needs to be protected.”

Heart’s quiet for a while, then— “I can _feel_ all your emotions, Ly. I can tell what all of you need. And Logic doesn’t need to know about the wandering Sides yet.”

I can tell Heart’s serious, so I don’t push it. He’ll come to realize Logic’s strengths himself eventually. Maybe. Unless he keeps bottling everything inside himself all the time, like he’s been doing.

But, for now, Heart sinks into the bed beside me, clutching my hand, and I’m comfortable.

“Thanks,” Heart says, smiling. “Today… really helped me. I’m glad I told you everything. I didn’t know I needed someone else to talk to.”

“Anytime,” I say, nodding. “I won’t always be willing to listen, if you need to talk.”

He giggles again. “I’m glad you’re a Side, Ly.”

“I’m not, too.”

I realize the comfort and exhaustion I’m feeling isn’t just my emotions, it’s the room’s. So… that means it’s Heart’s?

Heart smiles when I look at him, but he yawns, and I watch, as his eyes fall shut.

I wait, watching his expression relax, his chest rise and fall, his breathing reach a slow rhythm. 

I hadn’t realized, but Heart’s been trying to act this… peaceful, for a while now. I didn’t even know he was acting, until now, when I can see the real thing. His face while he’s sleeping is the most peaceful I’ve seen him yet.

I carefully pull my fingers out of his grip, which is loose now, anyway. I shift his legs onto his bed gently, and pull his blanket over him.

I sigh, as the room emanates the feeling of warmth, and comfort.

It’s a huge improvement from the biting anxiety and annoying guilt.

I let my gaze wander, falling on the wall of photos.

Unfortunately, it reminds me of Hate’s walls now, but the memories Heart’s chosen bring a smile to my face.

I can see Ma and Dad smiling.

Creativity pushing Fear into a pool of water, probably in the Imagination.

Aunt Patty lifting Thomas into the air.

Thomas’s hands wet with paint, as he draws a smiling sun.

Logic smiling slightly as he looks down at a finished rubix cube.

I skim over to the later memories, and one catches my eyes— at first, I think it’s Heart, but then the expression’s wrong, and the way he’s standing is wrong. Then I realize it’s _me_ , from my first day, when I’d still been in the same clothes as Heart. I have my arms crossed tightly across my chest, clearly uncomfortable.

Huh. Do I really look that defensive? I try to think back to my first day, and yeah, I guess I’d been a little on edge.

Then I find one of me and Logic cooking this morning’s breakfast, and I stifle a laugh. Logic looks frantic, his eyes on my back, while my brows are drawn together in concentration, as I try to crack an egg without getting any eggshells in.

And— the most recent one.

My face fills the frame, staring back at me tiredly, surrounded by blue blankets.

I feel my ears feel warm— I do _not_ look like that, that’s— 

I glance at Heart, who’s still asleep.

I duck my head and go for the door, in blind embarrassment.

I do _not_ smile like that. I _don’t_ look like that. That me looks too— affectionate, that me looks _kind_ and _reliable_ , and I’m not— I don’t feel like I’m any of those things.

I almost trip over Fear, who’s right outside the door.

He flinches, as startled as I am.

We stare at each other for a few long moments.

“How… did it go?” Fear asks, dropping his eyes.

For someone who said he hated Heart, I don’t ever see him acting like it.

“He’s not asleep.” I say. “I think… it didn’t go well.”

He nods, getting to his feet.

“Don’t mess this up,” he says, simply, as he starts walking away. I follow after him, and he tosses a glare at me. “What?”

“You should be in denial,” I say, giggling.

“Shut up.”

“Fear,” I gasp. “ _Language_.”

“Shut _up!_ ”


	8. Late Night Talks

“Logic?”

He flinches, from where he’d been standing in front of my door. He turns around, and he seems to deflate a little bit, the tension in his shoulders dropping.

“Lying,” he acknowledges, and I notice the book he has in his hands. I gasp, and walk forward, taking it from him.

“No thanks,” I say, grinning, and then I realize what it means for him to have this. Oh. This is going to be fun to explain.

“I found this outside the Subconsciousness,” he says, confirming my fears. “I assumed the worst, but I’m glad to have found you unharmed.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow, as I remember what I’d seen before I’d dropped the book.

I step past him, and push open my door.

“Can you… come in?” I ask. He has his mouth open to say something, but at my words, he stops.

“Alright,” he nods.

As soon as I enter, I flick my fingers, and summon two bean bag chairs, because. Why not. And then I go collapse into one.

“I didn’t see Fear in the middle of him fighting negative emotions,” I sigh. “Have you seen him fight those things?”

Logic hovers at my door, his hands nervously fidgeting in front of him, until a rubix cube materializes in them and he puts all his attention into it. “I have. It’s an alarming sight.”

“It wasn’t terrifying!” I snap. “One of those things didn’t almost get me!”

His hands slip, and the cube falls. It rolls to a stop by my bed, and I see one side of it’s already been solved. Another one quickly appears in his hands.

“Are you okay?” I ask, because he does _not_ look okay.

“My breathing and heart rate are perfectly stable,” he says, which _is_ the truth.

“How long has Fear been fighting those things?”

“I’m assuming since before I was here. Maybe before even Heart was.”

“That’s not insane.”

“What is insane?”

“...Do you know about the time Fear lost his room?”

This cube falls from his hands, too.

Instead, he starts shaking. 

Okay, I’m starting to think I’ve pushed things too far.

I stand up and guide Logic to my bed, making him sit. 

His hands dig into my bed, scrunching the blankets. And it seems to ground him.

“Yes.” He says, his voice clipped. “I was there when he was forced to leave his room.”

“What’s your favorite subject?”

He slowly blinks, at my wall. “...Do you mean at school?”

“Nope.”

“There isn’t a particular area of study I have more interest in than another. I find the act of learning any new information enjoyable.”

“Come on, Logic,” I grin. “Make me dig for it. Just don’t talk about anything you like.”

“Why?”

“Do you always need a reason to talk about something you like?”

He pauses, taking that in. “...Science.”

“Why?”

He takes a slow breath, his mind already seeming to whirr on the answer. “Science is the study of the known world. It is based on series of facts, and when those fail, theories and hypotheses based on fact. ‘Science’ itself a broad term, and it encompasses many subject matters, each that offer copious amounts of knowledge to be further explored. It is the type of study that will always offer new information.”

“And what’s something you like studying about in science?”

“Currently, I’m reading about dark matter— ”

I nod along, watching his shoulders slowly relax, his eyes start to shine. 

Unconsciously, I let out a breath too, slowly unwinding as I listen to him talk.

Okay, so no asking about how Fear lost his room. It sets everyone on edge. If I had memories of that time, I wouldn’t _need_ anyone else’s help figuring out what happened. But I only remember Fear coming back, being too weak to fight negative emotions off, and Creativity having to help him…

Speaking of Creativity. _There’s_ a Side I haven't tried yet.

Eventually, I’m aware that Thomas is deeply asleep.

I yawn, leaning back in bed, but Logic’s still going strong. I smile a little. That little _dork_.

It doesn’t seem to bother him that I have no idea what he’s talking about anymore, that I’m just nodding along, asking prodding half-questions whenever he stops, to make him keep going. He just seems really happy to talk about… whatever he’s talking about. I think I heard the word “radiation” at some point?

“Are you tired?” He cuts off, looking at me.

I nod. “I know how you manage to stay awake at night.”

His brows furrow. “I don’t like Creativity’s dreams.”

“...Huh?”

“The dreams Creativity makes at night. They never make any sense. I can’t sleep through so much _nonsense_ that starts whenever I close my eyes.”

Come to think of it. I think last night’s dream had something to do about being swallowed whole by a dragon and rescuing a damsel stuck in his stomach.

I laugh, realizing what a _nightmare_ that would’ve been to someone so passionate about facts.

“Is that why you don’t sleep much?”

Logic nods, hesitating. “I’m not sure how the rest of you are able to.”

“Even _Sides_ don’t need sleep, you know,” I say. “Just don’t do your best to ignore it for tonight. Or don’t ask Creativity in the morning.”

“I’ve tried asking him to make less… outlandish dreams. He just doesn’t want to listen.”

“Why didn’t you tell Heart? He wouldn’t have made Creativity do something about it.”

Logic looks down all of a sudden, picking at the blankets. He’s scrunching his brows again, and some sleepy part of me wants to reach out and poke at his forehead. His reaction last time had been hilarious, in hindsight.

“...Heart likes Creativity more than me.” He mutters, finally, a note of bitterness in his voice.

 _That_ gets me awake. Is that what Logic really thinks? I can taste the truth in the air, and it’s becoming a pattern where I keep hoping Sides are lying to me but they’re speaking the truth. “He _does!_ I didn’t see him today, and he wasn’t worrying about how to get you to open up to him!”

“He’s just worried he isn’t doing his job right.”

I look at him, considering. “I thought Fear wasn’t supposed to be the cynical one. You don’t know Heart loves all of us.”

Logic doesn’t look up. Instead, another rubix cube shows up in his hands, and his fingers start working— 

I pluck it out of his grip.

“ _Logic!_ ” I say. “Why aren’t you so worked up tonight? Is something wrong?”

He opens his mouth, and then he closes it again. He stands up. “I’ll let you rest.”

“Hey— ”

He sinks away, leaving me blinking at my floor.

Did I ever think there wasn't anything I could help Thomas with?

I think I’ve found a few.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (can someone give me feedback? mostly if any of this makes sense or if all of these interactions feel... genuine??)


	9. Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted all the chapters where Ly goes to the Imagination, and added two scenes to this one.  
> Anyone who read those chapters should forget about them since I've found a more fun place to take the story XD

Everyone’s alright by the next morning.

I think.

Well, there’s still no sign of Fear or Creativity, and Logic and Heart are acting… like they usually do.

I’m just glad the next few days go by peacefully.

I wake up to either Heart or Logic knocking on my doors. Logic and I cook most days, and I think I’m getting better. Not-so-subtly, I insist on helping Heart carry leftovers afterwards, and then spend the rest of the day with Logic, Heart, or by myself, in my room. I even told Heart that Creativity’s crazy dreams weren’t letting me sleep at night, and Heart promised to talk to Creativity about it when the Side came out of the Imagination.

I make it a point to visit the Subconsciousness everyday, and thankfully, I haven’t seen Fear fighting anything yet.  _ Hopefully _ , he’s recovering in his room.  _ Hopefully, _ he’s not throwing himself in danger for all of us without us knowing. It’s not like I can help him if I knew, but something doesn’t sit right with me when I think about him fighting here, alone.

I frown, as I water Caring. I didn’t know I would miss the noisiness of my first few days here. Logic and Creativity’s bickering in the background, Fear’s blunt remarks, and everyone generally just being…  _ happy _ , together. Something’s missing, and a lot of things are wrong, but I’m exhausted of thinking, so I haven’t done much of anything yet.

Come to think of it, most problems stem from Heart.

Who’s happily humming beside me as he clips the weeds around Hope.

_ I can’t stop thinking about it all _ .

_ It’s infuriating _ .

_ It feels like a storm is rumbling in the background, and I’m just watching it get bigger and bigger _ .

.

There’s a breeze blowing in the Subconsciousness today.

I’m not sure if that’s possible, or if it makes any sense.

But there it is, and it’s  _ literally _ damp with secrets. Words whisper in my ears, indistinct and jumbled, and I can feel the weight of them all. There are thoughts and emotions and sensations, all tumbled together, all indecipherable, and a hint of a taste that I can’t distinguish. 

I stand at the edge, one foot in the sand and the other in the carpeted hallway, testing the air.

They don’t taste like truths  _ or _ lies, I don’t think. Not sweet or bitter, but something else. I wonder what Thomas is feeling for the Subconsciousness to be this way.

“What are you— ”

I lose my footing, stumbling forward and falling face-first into the sand.

I sit up immediately, spitting out the grains, glaring at Fear, who looks just as shocked as I feel, who’s looking down at me with wide eyes and hunched shoulders, his hands deep in his hoodie pockets.

There’s a purple bruise on his cheek, and fading red scratches across his forehead. The sight reminds me of the creatures I’d seen him fight, and I suppress a shudder. There has  _ got _ to be a way to stop Fear from— 

His lips quirk upwards. “Usually,  _ I’m _ the jumpy one.”

I pause, realizing Fear thought this was funny. 

“You didn’t just sneak up on me!” I protest.

“I didn’t,” he agrees. “I just walked in to check on the Subconsciousness.”

I glare again, because I  _ know _ he understood what I meant.

But he just steps past me, and starts walking down the beach. I move to follow him, but the Subconsciousness genuinely terrifies me. So I just settle down on the floor, to wait in the hallway.

Soon, I hear an inhumane roar from the beach, and I cover my ears. 

Not again.

.

Fear comes out looking better than he had last time.

But he still stumbles past me, barely sparing me a glance.

I follow after him, feeling helpless, having watched him fight from afar.

I want to help support him, but he looks out of it, and even on his best days it’s not a good idea to try and touch him.

We walk through the hallways silently.

“What  _ were _ those things?” I ask, because the monsters he’d fought tonight hadn’t looked the same as before. The shadows hadn’t been humanoid, they’d been vague clouds of shapes.

“Nightmares,” he grunts.

Eventually, we reach a black door standing alone in the blank hallway.

Fear walks in and slams his door shut in my face.

I hesitate, wringing my hands. The plate of food Heart had left him sits beside the door, the soup now cold. He hasn’t eaten yet?

“Fear!” I call, knocking. “Everyone’s not worried about you. Can you come eat with us soon?”

He doesn’t give me a reply.

I linger by his door for a while before I leave.

.

I yawn, dragging my feet out of Logic’s room.

We’d stayed up all night reading a book on general Astronomy, so I’d know what he’s talking about the next time he launches into one of his rambles. I should probably get some sleep before breakfast, but I’m craving ice cream. I’m not sure why, and it’s five in the morning, but I’m not going to deny my cravings.

I stumble into the kitchen, but I find the lights already on.

I squint.

Heart doesn’t wake up this early.

Someone dressed head-to-toe in black is putting something in the oven, and I feel the whole mindscape breathe a sigh of relief with me. Or maybe it’s just me.

I grin, leaning over the kitchen counter, and Fear jumps when he straightens up.

“Don’t do that!” He snaps.

“What are you baking?”

“Breakfast,” he says, backing away from me, his eyes not meeting mine.

“So what’s for breakfast?”

“Bread.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and he just goes about mixing something over the stove.

I get the whole tub of strawberry ice cream, and curl up at the table, watching him.

He seems a lot more at ease now, more calm, though he keeps throwing me pointed glances. There’s none of the staggering around or the hunch to his shoulders I’d seen a few days ago. It’s refreshing. I wish he would stay like this.

“What are you doing?” He sighs, finally.

“Not watching you.”

He doesn’t ask for further explanation.

A while later, Heart comes in, Logic behind him.

“Fear!” Heart exclaims, running up to the Side and pulling him into a hug. Fear hesitates, but he hugs him back, almost smiling when Heart can’t see his face.

“Did you finish all of that yourself?” Logic asks, peering over my shoulder.

I look at the empty ice cream box, which might as well have been wiped clean.

Oh.

So I did. 

I grin at Logic, who’s giving me a look of silent disapproval.

“That’s terrible for your health.” He says, and I’m inclined to agree, because my stomach is throbbing again. But I know that’s not from the ice cream, so I ignore it.

“You shouldn’t try this some time,” I say. “Maybe not ice cream, but something else you don’t like. It doesn’t make you feel refreshed.”

Logic just shakes his head— 

“I  _ can _ do it!” Heart says, his voice a childish whine that I hadn’t heard in a while.

“Logic!” Fear calls, and he’s glaring at Heart, who’s trying to help, probably. “Can you mix the syrup so I can make some juice to go with this?”

Logic disappears into the kitchen. 

“Is this Aunt Patty’s recipe?” He asks.

“Yeah, I found it in the library a few weeks ago,” Fear says. “I wanted to try it out today.”

“Mixing syrup isn’t even hard! Let me help!”

“Go sit with Lying!”

“Fear is correct. I believe you would hurt yourself trying to help.”

“Not you  _ too _ , Lo.”

I watch, letting myself bask in their warmth.

Now we’re just missing one more.

.

Creativity shows up two days later.

We’re in the middle of another movie night, when he just shows up and throws himself onto the couch between me and Heart.

Heart smiles, and moves over to make some room. 

I hesitate, staring at him, and Creativity notices.

“Missed me?” He says, raising his brows, to which I have to scoff.

“Of course,” I say, moving over a little. “Where would we ever be without you?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. But then he grins, and throws a pillow at me.

“Whatever, Pants on Fire.” He huffs, settling more comfortably against Heart.

Logic looks up from his book to nod at the scene, and Fear’s already asleep on the floor, leaning back against the couch.

I smile at the TV.

Nothing’s perfect yet.

But at least we’re all together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! So, I just recently stumbled onto Sanders Sides fanfictions, AND I GOT TOTALLY SUCKED IN. The videos are cool, but reading everyone's interpretations of those characters is AMAZING. I read some really, really good fics, and so, I decided to make an account and write one of my own!  
> (fun fact: I looked up facts about deceit to start writing this fic the day the new video released and I hadn't watched it yet, so I was like-"who's janus???")


End file.
